The Return From Troy

by Lindsay Clarke

  And now the sound of laughter turned to squeals of dismay. He heard a voice cry out, a girl’s voice, and when he looked in the direction from which the sound had come, he saw her running among the rocks of the river bank in a yellow dress, looking at where a ball was being carried swiftly away by the water sluicing between the stones. Then there were other girls gathering beside her, six or seven of them, all staring in dismay at the lost ball.

  When the first girl started to venture into the current, a taller young woman wearing cornflower-blue called out, ‘Oh let it go, Clymene. You’ll never catch it now. We should be going soon anyway.’

  He might have taken them for nymphs but for the cheerful practicality of that voice. These were only mortal girls at play in the sunlight on the river bank. When he raised his head to look more closely he could see the bright colours of the tunics and robes they had laid out to dry along the flatter rocks. Presumably they were serving-maids who had been sent out by their mistress that morning to do the laundry of some nearby house. But the sun was high, the clothes were dry by now, and some of the young women had already begun to fold them into piles. They would not be here much longer; if he wanted their help, he would have to stand up and show himself.

  Wincing at the pain in his limbs, Odysseus got to his feet, brushed off the last leaves clinging to his skin, and realized he was stark naked. He looked around for something with which to cover himself and, when he found nothing, twisted off a leafy branch from the olive bush with his bare hands.

  At the moment when he stepped out of the clearing, one of the young women looked up from the garment she was folding, saw his naked figure approach, and immediately screamed. The others looked first at her and then, following the direction of her eyes, turned to look at him.

  Odysseus stopped in his tracks, astounded by the squeals of women who were running away now or holding on to one another for protection, frozen where they stood. Then he saw himself as they must have seen him — a wild man stepping out of the trees, his skin caked with salt, hairy, bedraggled, and naked but for the olive branch covering his manhood. All the more amazing, therefore, that one of the maidens stood her ground, refusing to be cowed.

  ‘Forgive me,’ Odysseus stammered, ‘I don’t mean to frighten you.’

  Slender and proud, biting her lip, the girl said nothing but her eyes remained on his, unflinching. He saw at once that this was no servant. Her manner was far too composed. Accustomed to deference, she was not about to demean herself even before this alarming figure who took another two steps towards her, holding out one dirty hand in entreaty while the other held the branch over his loins. For a moment Odysseus wondered whether he should fall to the ground in the manner of a supplicant and clutch her by the knees. Had he been standing before a man he would have done so without shame, so desperate were his circumstances now. But even a girl as brave this one might feel threatened if he came too close; so he remained where he was, still a few yards away, and gave a rueful, beseeching smile.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said again, ‘I’m not the savage I must seem. Just a shipwrecked mariner who has no idea where the gods have fetched him up.’ As he saw her hesitate, a canny flash of inspiration came to him. ‘Or even,’ he added, ‘whether you are a mortal like me or a goddess — such is your grace and stature …’

  A half smile lit her face but still she said nothing.

  Warily, one of the other girls stepped from behind a wagon that stood by the cisterns further upstream where two mules were grazing, and called out for her to come away. ‘Nausicaa, please … . We’ve no idea who he might be.’

  Though her eyes had swiftly glanced that way at the sound of her name, Nausicaa did not move. She looked back at him, swallowing, thinking quickly.

  ‘I was at sea alone for many days,’ he pressed, ‘and now some god has cast me at your feet to beg for pity. All I ask is that you give me something to cover my shame and point me to the nearest town.’ Sensing her warming towards him, he raised his eyes in appeal. ‘I’ve got nothing to offer in return, I’m afraid — except my prayers that the gods grant you whatever your heart desires.’

  Nodding her bright head, Nausicaa smiled. ‘Your manner shows me that you’re no villain, sir,’ she said, ‘and I can see you’re no fool either. If Zeus has sent you here, it’s with good reason. You shall have all our help.’ Then she looked towards the wagon, calling out to her friends that there was no reason to be afraid. When they still seemed reluctant to come out of hiding, she laughed and told them to bring food and drink for this unfortunate stranger. A couple of the braver girls approached, one of them carrying a newly laundered cloak with which Odysseus hastily covered himself. Seeing that he was harmless, others began to collect food together for him — bread and olives, a fine goat’s cheese, cold mutton, figs and grapes — and looked on with shocked fascination as he wolfed some of it down with the watered wine they had brought.

  When she saw the famished man glance down in dismay at the dirty hands in which he held the food, Nausicaa said. ‘I couldn’t help noticing that your body is bruised, sir. If you wish it, my companions will bathe you in the river and soothe your limbs with olive oil.’ But one of the younger girls was already giggling.

  Flushing a little, Odysseus thanked Nausicaa for her kindness but said that he would prefer to bathe and oil himself if they would be so good as to stand apart a little. Taking the flask of oil they offered and a finely embroidered tunic that they brought for him to wear, he walked down to the bank with as much dignity as he could muster and looked for a place among the rocks where he could cleanse himself unseen. The river water had grown warm in the afternoon sun. Odysseus found it refreshing, but as he washed the brine from his body, rubbed the oil into his limbs, and used his fingers to brush out the tangles of his hair, he was conscious of the women chattering together in the sunlit glade.

  They looked up in surprise when he stepped out from between the boulders in the viridian green tunic embroidered with golden threads. The unkempt wild man had vanished, and a well-dressed fellow with wet, slightly grizzled hair stood in his place, embarrassed by their frank attention.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘I’m feeling much better now.’

  Nausicaa stepped towards him, smiling; then she glanced back at the others. ‘What did I tell you?’ she said. ‘He’s a handsome figure of a man. I dare say any one of you would be pleased to marry him.’

  Though he was startled by her candour, Odysseus was able to hold her gaze without diffidence now, and saw that she could not be more than fourteen years old. Most of the others were older, but clearly the authority was hers, and she wore it with a bright insouciance that both impressed and amused him. And now that his nakedness was covered, his confidence had returned. It seemed that the gods had been less cruel than he thought.

  ‘I was wondering,’ he smiled, ‘might there be something else to eat?’

  Politely restraining her curiosity about the stranger, Nausicaa sat by the rug on which more food had been arranged for him. As he ate, she chattered about how a strange half-waking dream had come to her just before she woke that day.

  In the dream, she said, one of her friends had reproved her for leaving her clothes lying about the chamber and neglecting to wash them. She was told to ask her father for a wagon and then to take all the family’s laundry down to the river and wash it clean. ‘Except,’ she announced with an elated smile, ‘it wasn’t really my friend at all, for at the end of the dream I saw her fly away to the cloudless heights of Mount Olympus and I knew that I’d been visited by Divine Athena herself. So I immediately went down and told my father what I’d dreamed. He gave me a wagon at once and I collected all the dirty clothes I could find, and we brought them here to the cisterns. And we’ve had a lovely day of it, singing as we beat the clothes against the rocks, and then swimming and playing with our ball. But now I see what my dream was truly about,’ again she favoured Odysseus with her eager smile, ‘because if Athena hadn’t visited me and told
me what to do, I certainly wouldn’t have come down to the river today, and then I would never have found you, and that would have been terrible! So you see the gods have been kind to both of us!’

  ‘They’ve certainly been kind to me,’ Odysseus agreed. ‘I’m glad that you feel so too. But you must tell me more about yourself.

  I still don’t know who you are, and I don’t even know where I am, for that matter.’

  ‘You’ve landed on Scheria,’ she said, ‘which is the most beautiful island in the world, and my father, King Alcinous, is lord over all the Phaeacians. His city isn’t far from here and you’ll meet all our nobles there. It has two fine harbours and a splendid temple to Blue-haired Poseidon. We’re a great sailing people, you see.’

  And a most reclusive one, Odysseus thought, for the Phaeacians were famous for keeping themselves to themselves on their northern island, having neither the need nor the desire to trade with the kingdoms of the south and east. Every now and then, on his own voyages of exploration, he had caught sight of one of their dark ships running swiftly before the wind, but only rarely, and he had never come close to overhauling one. It was a worrying thought that these seafarers were devoted to Poseidon, who had shown no love for him; but if this girl’s candour and friendliness were any guide to the temperament of the Phaeacians, he had nothing much to fear from them.

  Yet the longer he listened to her chatter, the more unusual Nausicaa came to seem to him. If she had the self-possession of a king’s daughter, she displayed none of the spoiled hauteur that often went with it, and neither coy self-regard nor any gloss of sophistication spoiled her wildflower freshness. She was unblemished by life, as yet innocent of sexual passion and its wounds, and still on the threshold of everything. It lifted his heart just to look at her.

  ‘Once you’ve eaten your fill,’ she was saying, ‘I’ll take you into the city and introduce you to everyone. I’m sure my parents will be delighted to meet you, and …’ She looked up, frowning, at where one of the older girls was clearing her throat to attract attention. With a hint of impatience she said, ‘What is it, Philona?’

  When Philona indicated that she wished to speak privately, the two young women stood briefly whispering together, closer to where the others were already loading the folded clothes into the wagon. Nausicaa came back to Odysseus with a slightly discomfited air. ‘I’d forgotten that we have to go past the shipyard on our way to the palace,’ she said. ‘Now that you’re looking so distinguished, if the sailors see me keeping company with you they’re sure to start gossiping. Some of them can be rather coarse, you see, and they’re always teasing me about who I’m going to marry and when. It’s all quite ridiculous, but there’s the question of my good name …’ She glanced up to see if he understood. When she saw him nod, she smiled and said, ‘So we’ve decided it’s best if you follow on behind the wagon as we go into town, and then wait for a while by Athena’s spring in my father’s park. You’ll find your way into town easily enough from there. Just ask anyone where the palace is, and then go right through into the great hall. The King will almost certainly be in there.’ Her eyes darted aside as a further thought occurred to her. ‘But I think you should approach my mother, Queen Arete, where she’ll be working at her loom. Clasp her by the knees and beg for her aid and once you’ve won her sympathy, they’ll both do all they can to help you.’ Nausicaa glanced up at him with an eager smile. ‘What do you think?’

  ‘I think,’ Odysseus said, ‘that all sounds very wise.’

  Two nights later Odysseus sat in the great hall of King Alcinous, listening to the blind bard Demodocus singing the story of how the crippled god Hephaistus had revenged himself on Aphrodite when he learned that his wife was cuckolding him with her lover Ares. Waiting till they were lost deep in each other’s embraces, Hephaistus had thrown a finely forged mesh of metal netting over the God of War and the Goddess of Love, trapping them together in her bed; then he called the other gods to ridicule their naked embarrassment.

  Demodocus was renowned throughout all Phaeacia for the beauty of his voice and, looking about the hall, Odysseus smiled to see the entire assembly sitting spellbound beneath the bronze panels and blue enamelling of the palace walls.

  From the first, Alcinous and Queen Arete had made him warmly welcome in their kingdom, and though their sons had tried to treat him with disdain on the field of sport earlier that day, he had soon silenced them by the strength with which he hurled a discus far beyond the mark their throws had reached. Nausicaa had stood watching him throughout, urging him on and warmly applauding his success. She was smiling across at him now, her fingers playing with the braided tresses of her hair that glistened in the light from the fire.

  These Phaeacians were good people. Queen Arete had immediately responded to his appeal for aid when he threw himself down as a supplicant before her. Recognizing the green and gold tunic he wore as her own handiwork, she asked him how he had come by it; and when she and her generous-hearted husband learned how bravely Nausicaa had helped him, they seemed well-pleased with the friendship that had flourished between this stranger and their daughter. Even her discountenanced brothers had come round quickly enough from their defeat on the sports field and had lavished him with gifts before putting on a display of dancing that left him filled with admiration. Yet the truth was that these people knew almost nothing about him still. Though this was already the second night he had passed in their company, they were too discreet to ply him with questions, and he had volunteered no information other than that he had been shipwrecked by a storm while sailing eastwards from Ogygia. If they thought it strange that a man should sail the seas alone, not one of them remarked on it; nor — great seamen that they were - had they asked about the kind of ship he sailed. Having for so long preferred to keep themselves to themselves, the Phaeacians were not about to intrude on anyone else’s privacy without invitation.

  Yet sooner or later something must be said, for Odysseus was aware that Nausicaa was falling in love with him, and he was growing concerned that he might injure those tender feelings that the girl was too innocent to conceal. So he was not entirely at ease as he listened to Demodocus sing of the passion of Ares and Aphrodite. The toils of desire entangling the god and goddess resembled too closely the golden chains in which he and Calypso had been bound together on Ogygia for the past six years. And Odysseus sighed as he thought of her now.

  Even though Macareus had been appalled by Calypso’s act of transgression, he had known suffering enough of his own to have sympathy for a desperate young woman who reminded him in many ways of his sister Canace. At her request he had agreed that he would do what he could to pacify Circe’s rage against her on his return to Aiaia, and that he would try to explain why Odysseus had decided to answer her plea for aid. If he sensed a deeper, unspoken and perhaps as yet unrecognized collusion between the Ithacan and the beautiful renegade who had thrown herself on his mercy, Macareus said nothing of it; but it was with a heavy heart that he watched The Fair Return put to sea that day. He was puzzled too by Odysseus’ gruff demand to know whether the Lady Circe had ever taken him to her bed. How could such a thought ever have crossed the Ithacan’s mind?

  As for Odysseus himself, he had no clear idea why he was doing what he was doing except that he knew he could not leave another young woman to die. He had watched Iphigenaia and Polyxena die, and he had been given a premonition of Canace lying in her blood. None of those girls had he saved from the dreadful fate awaiting them. But this girl he could save. Out of a newly compassionate feel for life that was the true harvest of his initiations in Aiaia and Cuma, he was determined to do it.

  Yet he was aware that Calypso’s defection from her sacred service was an act of betrayal in which he was now complicit. He was betraying the goddess into whose mysteries he had been initiated; he was betraying Circe who had been his guide into those mysteries; and though he suspected that neither breach of faith would pass without some price being paid for it, he had not yet ackn
owledged another deeper betrayal that was he was about to perpetrate.

  Always superstitious, his crew were unhappy about taking Calypso on board, for how could anything but trouble come from upsetting the gods of a shrine? They became still more disgruntled when they heard Odysseus order Baius to turn the cutwater westwards. They might have only a vague idea of their present location but they knew that Ithaca lay to the east, and that Elpenor still lay unburied at Aiaia to the north. So what was the captain up to now? He had been acting strangely since he came back out of the Underworld, but he would say nothing of what had happened there, and they felt offended by his indifference to their concerns. Yet when a deputation came aft to address their complaints to him, Odysseus merely told them that they would be home soon enough. Meanwhile they should hold their peace.

  His ill-temper reflected his own uncertainty, for though he tried to give as little attention as he could to Calypso where she stood by the prow with her hair blowing in the wind off the sea, or rested in the hold beneath the afterdeck, he found that his eyes kept straying towards her. Also he was stirred by the desire to talk to her more intimately, but not until they, made camp on the eastern coast of Sicily was he able to seek her out and demand a fuller account of her reasons for abandoning her sacred duties at the Oracle of the Dead.

  She seemed wary and reticent at first, as though the certainty she had shown before boarding the ship had evaporated while they were at sea. When he saw how her eyes kept shifting nervously away along the strand to where the Libyan boy Hermes squatted on his haunches making sad music with his pipes, he decided to make a gentler approach.