Odysseus: The Oath

by Valerio Massimo Manfredi

  I got up early and darkened the windows so Penelope could sleep as long as she liked, then went out with Argus and got him some fresh milk from the stables. My father came out soon afterwards and instantly saw the dog.

  ‘Is this your grandfather’s gift?’

  ‘Yes,’ I replied.

  ‘You’re good at lying, just as he is. I heard a bowstring vibrating last night. I know the voice of a weapon like that one. How often they sowed death among my comrades when we descended from the ship to plunder some unknown land!’

  ‘This is my grandfather’s gift,’ I repeated, pointing at Argus.

  ‘Show it to me. I heard its voice last night. Every bow has his own and this one strikes terror into a man’s heart.’

  I couldn’t continue denying the truth: I took him to the room where I kept the chest and opened it in front of his eyes. Laertes the hero was stupefied at the sight and held out his hand to stroke the horn, black and shiny.

  ‘This weapon comes from very far away,’ he said. ‘Perhaps the gift of a chieftain or a king, perhaps a spoil won in the sacking of a foreign city.’ His hand closed over the grip.

  ‘Grandfather told me this weapon must never leave this house. What did he mean by that?’

  ‘It means that it must never be taken to sea; it must remain on the island. Perhaps it’s a talisman, a magic object that can keep misfortune at bay. Your grandfather has been generous. This is a gift worthy of a king, my son.’

  MY LIFE resumed quietly again on the island. Mentor often journeyed to the mainland and brought us news about what was happening there. In Mycenae, Atreus had been killed by his brother Thyestes and the story Mentor had to tell recounted such an atrocious chain of vengeance that certain parts of it were actually hard to believe. Agamemnon had managed to banish his uncle Thyestes from the city with the help of his brother Menelaus and it was said that he wanted to claim the throne for himself. Menelaus and his wife Helen were still living in Sparta. King Tyndareus was hoping that upon his death his two twin sons, Argonauts Castor and Pollux, would reign together in Sparta.

  Argus was growing fast, well fed thanks to the abundant left-overs from the banquets we frequently held for visitors and guests. I had started to take him hunting. I always carried the great bow that grandfather Autolykos had given me. I’d learned to handle it well; it felt like it had always been mine. Even Damastes was amazed at how light and manageable it became in my hands: it was as if the bow gave me strength and not the opposite. Argus had learned to drive deer to where I lay in wait. I never missed a single one.

  One day Damastes came to see me as I was skinning a buck and cutting the meat into pieces so that the cooks could purge it of its gamey odour and prepare it for roasting.

  ‘I’ve come to say goodbye,’ he said. ‘I have nothing more to teach you, my prince. If I stay I’ll only end up becoming bored or feeling useless.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I answered. ‘I owe you so much. The days we’ve spent together have been full of adventure, and of hard work as well! You forged the boy who was put in your charge into a man. If you wish, I’d like you to stay here with us as a member of the family and as my counsellor. Think about it, please. You’d be happy with us.’

  ‘I thank you. But as I’ve just said, my prince, I would only become bored waiting to grow old. It’s best that I return north, to my home on the mainland, to live among the bold horsemen and adventurous sailors who dwell there. I come from the land of the centaurs, you know. A man like me cannot wait for the sun to set forever; I have to chase after it, remain in a beam of its light until my strength serves me, and then die on my feet, if I can.’

  My rough and ready instructor knew how to speak like the most learned sage and his words would remain in my heart for the rest of my life. My father rewarded him with ingots of copper from the mines of Cyprus, along with a sword taken from his personal armoury, made of sharpened bronze with an ivory hilt, and gave him a ship that would take him home. Argus barked loudly as he watched the ship leaving the port as if to say goodbye, and Damastes replied with a wave of his hand. I never saw him again, but I liked to imagine him walking through the dense woods and the rugged mountainside, waiting in silence in the evenings for the centaurs to descend from the heights and drink at the springs. My youth went with him. That evening Penelope told me she was carrying my child.

  I loved her even more then, if such a thing were possible. A child would crown our perfect life. It would be such a gift to see how much of me and how much of his mother would come alive in him! I wanted a son, but a little girl who resembled the only woman I’d ever loved in my life would fill me equally with joy. Euriclea was more attentive than ever to Penelope, fretting that she’d lost weight or that she looked pale, and nagging her to take better care of herself. At the end of the year, when the day of the birth was drawing near, I built another bed on the ground floor with the pretext that it would be easier for Penelope not to have to go up and down the steps all the time. In reality, both of us were jealous of our wedding chamber, and we wanted no one to discover our secret. Only Euriclea was allowed in.

  A boy was born, and I gave him his name, before someone else could show up and give him a name I didn’t like. I called him Telemachus, because one day he would become an archer and I would leave him the bow that grandfather Autolykos had given me, the most powerful and extraordinary weapon in all the palace. All of the men in the house said he looked like me, all the women that he looked like my mother, and everyone agreed that he would be a handsome boy. One day I went to the peak of Mount Neritus to offer a sacrifice to Athena: a lamb that I’d had my shepherds choose as the fattest in the flock. I immolated the lamb on a rock in the centre of a clearing full of blue flowers and red poppies and made a burnt offering of its flesh. My mother made a sacrifice to Hera, who assists women in childbirth, to thank her that all had gone well.

  Argus immediately adapted to the new arrival and often, when he wasn’t out hunting with me, he would curl up at the foot of the cradle and whenever the baby let out a wail he would put his paws on the side of the bed and lick Telemachus’ little hand, as if to say, you aren’t alone, there’s someone here watching out for you.

  Penelope chose a nurse from among the maidservants to make sure the baby got the best care possible, but she liked to keep him with her as much as she could. Sometimes they even kept me company on my boat when I went out fishing.

  One day, as we were sitting on the palace steps and watching the sun set over the sea, she said to me: ‘You’ve paved the way for a long period of peace in Achaia, so that your son will live as long as possible in a world without bloodshed. The bad omen in your name has never come true. Look at the sun sinking into the sea, listen to the voices of the children playing in the village! I’m so happy that I veiled myself for you, Odysseus. We’ll be able to go back to Sparta soon, and my father will understand that it’s not power and armies that make people happy, it’s wanting the same things, living in peace, watching your children grow so they can have a better life than you had.’

  I took her hand between mine and held it there until the sun had disappeared into the sea and Euriclea had called us for dinner. But Mentor told us that my father had important matters to discuss with me and Penelope preferred to have her dinner served in the women’s quarters. My father and I ate together in the great hall.

  Some of my friends were there too, the ones who had come with me when I visited grandfather on the mainland: Eurylochus, Perimedes, Elpenor and Euribates. My father’s advisers were also present, as were his gamekeeper and Mentor. I was sorry that Damastes’ place was empty. Lamb on a spit was served, with toasted bread, olives and partridge eggs, and good red wine from Messenia. Nestor always remembered to send it to us, every year, and we thanked him with sheep and goat hides and pork sausages.

  When the tables were cleared after dinner, Mentor turned to the king and said: ‘Prince Odysseus, our guests and I are all anxious to hear what you have to tell us.’
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br />   My father had wine poured for everyone and then began to speak: ‘At the end of the summer you, Mentor, will summon all the people of Ithaca to gather in the main square of the city. Each of you present here will convince all those you know to be present. The herald will visit every household to announce the date of the assembly. I wish you all a serene night.’

  I glanced at him to try to gauge from his look just what he was thinking, but I didn’t ask questions. A buzz ran through the room. Everyone was wondering what could have happened to cause the king to call for an assembly of the people and what would happen next. But since my father had dismissed us, there was no excuse to linger and everyone said goodbye then left to go to their own homes. Once all our friends had left, only Mentor and I remained with my father, who poured more wine with his own hand and continued.

  ‘Son,’ he said, ‘you’re a man now and have shown that you can handle great responsibility . . .’

  I shot an inquisitive glance at Mentor, but it didn’t seem that he had any idea of where my father was going either.

  ‘. . . on your mission to Sparta you showed great sagacity and skill. All of Achaia should be grateful to you. You refrained from courting the most beautiful woman in the world, but chose the bride who was most beautiful in your own eyes, most judicious and deserving of you. You built your wedding chamber with your own hands, you possess a formidable weapon which attests to the consideration and esteem of the most irascible and arrogant man I’ve ever met, your grandfather. And finally you have generated a son, you are the head of a family. You can be the head of your people

  ‘No, atta!’ my heart cried out, but no voice came from between my teeth. My father stared, with those iridescent blue eyes of his, into the depths of my soul.

  ‘. . . You can be the king of Ithaca!’

  17

  I TRIED IN EVERY WAY I KNEW to dissuade him. I begged him not to make the decision. I never wanted the moment to come, because I had never imagined succeeding my father. He was still a very strong man, held in great esteem by all the kings of Achaia; he could count on powerful allies and enjoyed enormous prestige. He could reign for many a year to come. I had carried out no exploit worthy of praise, except for killing a boar and getting myself wounded in the process.

  ‘You’ve accomplished much more than that!’ he answered me. ‘You headed off a violent struggle among the princes of Achaia and bound them together with an oath. This was a far greater feat than winning a duel or even a battle. You mustn’t think that I’ve come to this decision without reflecting on all of this.’

  I spoke all night long with Penelope, who tried to convince me to accept my father’s decision.

  ‘Your father is also your king, Odysseus. You cannot shirk the responsibility he’s offering you. To do so would be ungrateful and disrespectful as well. I’m a happy woman; I have no desire to become queen. But I am certain that you will be a great sovereign because I know you. When you laugh your eyes change colour like the sun in the morning. I told you that in the apple and olive garden . . .’

  ‘I remember,’ I replied, ‘as if it were now. You were laughing, while I was trying to assume an expression befitting a great warrior.’

  ‘You are a great warrior. So great you have no need of demonstrating it. So, accept the will of your father and honour him for the rest of his life. As far as Queen Mother Anticlea is concerned, I already know how happy this will make her.’

  I dropped my head and my heart flooded with sadness: others would have yearned for the sceptre and the throne. Not I.

  The event was announced by the herald throughout the kingdom on the day of the last new moon of the summer. My succession to the throne of Ithaca would take place on the spring equinox; sufficient time to make all the necessary preparations. All of the noblemen of the kingdom were invited and my father long pondered whether he should invite the other kings, or at least some of his fellow Argonauts, but he felt it would be impossible to offer hospitality worthy of such powerful sovereigns. The kings would bring with them wives, children, a retinue of dignitaries, bodyguards, maidservants and slaves; his house was simply not big enough.

  ‘Ithaca is too small, my son. But it will be a great day nonetheless. The kings will be notified afterwards by a message that Mentor will personally take to the mainland.’

  I looked into his eyes, so transparent, so deep. There were so many things I wished I could tell him. I wanted to plead with him not to place such a heavy burden on my shoulders, to make him understand that I still wanted to be free to go hunting on my own or with grandfather, without an escort of Ithacan warriors. All that came out was a choked, ‘I’m sorry, atta, that’s too bad . . .’

  He sighed, Laertes the hero, my father. He gave me a slap on the shoulder and didn’t reply.

  I spent the time that separated me from my succession talking to him every day, trying to glean all I could from his experience and his wisdom, his memories and his mistakes, his secrets, his adventures, his heart’s most hidden feelings.

  I spent the time hunting with Argus. He was a magnificent animal: powerful, swift, untiring. He would flush out the game and drive them towards me and as soon as I saw them coming I’d let fly with the horn bow that Autolykos had given me. A single shot could pierce the tough hide of a boar and cleave its heart.

  I spent the time alongside my bride, who every day seemed more desirable and beautiful than ever. And I went to the pastures and the stables so I could take stock of my wealth in sheep, cattle and slaves.

  One day Eumeus, the swineherd, who wasn’t much older than I was but who had been taking care of the pigs for as long as I could remember, said to me: ‘Will you still come by to chat once you’ve become king?’

  ‘I certainly will if you invite me to dinner and roast a nice pig’s haunch!’ I replied.

  He kissed my hand. I would often pass by, when I could, especially after I’d been hunting. I felt like I could breathe around him, and he did have a way with roasted pork. He didn’t remember who his parents were or where he had come from; my father had bought him when he was just a child from Phoenician merchants. We were his family. He would have sacrificed his life for my father without batting an eye.

  I spent much time with Mentor as well, and it was he, on the day of my succession, who took the sceptre from my father’s hands and gave it to me. The sceptre was made of ivory and decorated with finely carved amber set in gold and silver. King Laertes my father – yes, I’ll keep calling him that for as long as I live, because a king is a king forever – placed the blue cloak he’d been wearing when he returned from the expedition of the Argonauts upon my shoulders.

  My mother cried, Euriclea cried, certainly because they were happy for me. So little time had passed since they had held me as a baby in their arms. I held out my left hand and Penelope took her place at my side. A cloak was placed upon her shoulders as well; it was white, embroidered with a rich purple thread at the hem and belt. My mother gave her a necklace made of diaspore with three rose-coloured pearls harvested from distant seas and a ring of yellow quartz set in orichalch that had belonged to grandmother Chalcomedusa. She was incredibly beautiful, my queen, her hair gathered at the top of her head with a bone comb, and yet I could not feel happy. I felt my father’s eyes upon me, I heard the voice of the people, but in my heart I could not help but feel certain that all those cheering for me would be far safer with my father on the throne than with me.

  A solemn procession took us to a sanctuary on the seashore, a sacred grotto inhabited by nymphs, and I offered them a propitiatory sacrifice. But then I continued on alone to a site on the steep, bare, rocky mountainside, where I immolated another victim to Zeus, who protects kings.

  But it was to Athena, not Zeus, that I directed my most heart-felt prayer. I asked nothing from the goddess except that she stay close by me. ‘Do not ever abandon me, goddess of the green-blue gaze, remain by my side always and show me the way. Give me, I implore you, a sign that you have heard me and that
you will answer my prayer.’

  As I was returning to the city and to the palace, I saw a shepherd boy taking a single lamb to pasture. There was something strange about him; first of all, he was too young for such work. A blast of cold wind suddenly struck my left side, as if a storm were coming up, and I turned in that direction and said: ‘Where are you?’ When I turned back again, the shepherd boy was gone and the lamb had been transformed into the enormous albino ram that belonged to grandfather Autolykos.

  From my mouth came a sound, and I didn’t recognize my own voice when it said: ‘The storm shall come, and the lamb must become a great ram . . .’ Was this the message from my goddess?

  That evening a rich banquet had been set at the palace for the noblemen of our kingdom and the nearby islands. They were introduced one by one, and each paid homage to me and Penelope. My queen’s close ties to the king and queen of Sparta made her a person of great prestige and importance. Each swore loyalty and allegiance to me, and having my father by my side certainly had a strong influence. There were some of them, however, men of my father’s age, who could not manage to conceal a certain attitude of superiority towards me.

  Many of the guests were given hospitality in the palace, others stayed at the homes of the Ithacan nobility: an excellent occasion to strengthen friendships, contract marriages, strike up alliances between families. When they had left the banquet hall, I joined my father in the courtyard, where he had gone to take in the cool night air under the portico before retiring for the night. He smiled at me and said: ‘How does it feel to be king?’