The Greek Myths

by Robin Waterfield

  Witness to all of this was Telemachus, the noble son of Odysseus. Penelope had only just been delivered of the boy when his father was pressed into joining the expedition to sack Troy. Nearly two decades had passed and Telemachus was mature enough to resent this violation of his inheritance, but he lacked as yet the wisdom and strength to redress it. But Athena, the aegis-bearing daughter of Zeus, was looking after Odysseus’ son, as well as Odysseus himself.

  Athena appeared before Telemachus in the guise of a family friend, a trader from abroad, who advised the young prince to call an assembly of the men of Ithaca, to solicit their support for his efforts to oust the suitors from his home. He also urged the prince to journey to the Peloponnese, to seek out wise Nestor of Pylos, and Menelaus, king of Sparta. They might provide news of his long-lost father.

  Telemachus agreed, and called the men of the region together to discuss the violation of his father’s house. For the first time in his life, the young man took the speaker’s staff in his hand and addressed the assembly of Ithaca. He explained the grievance he held against the suitors, but Antinous, a leader among those suing for the hand of Penelope, responded with spiteful words. He called on Telemachus to expel his scheming mother and send her back to her father’s house, where she could be properly courted and dowered. “It’s time for her to choose,” Antinous insisted. “No more deception: she has kept us at bay for three years by pretending that she would soon finish her embroidery. Now she must admit that Odysseus is dead: she is husbandless, and must choose one of us!”

  In anger Telemachus replied that he would not for a moment consider throwing his mother out of the house, to earn her curses and the displeasure of the immortal gods. And he promised to destroy the suitors if they persisted, calling on Zeus, father of gods and men, to witness his oath. As the words passed his lips, Zeus sent two eagles from the distant mountain. They hovered over the assembly and then attacked each other, clawing with their razor-like talons, before swooping off to the east.

  A senior member of the assembly read the omen: Odysseus would soon return and there would be a reckoning against the wastrels who spent their days stuffing themselves on the fruits of their absent king’s estates, and courting his lady. Antinous and the other suitors laughed in scorn.

  Still in her disguise, Athena followed Telemachus down to the port. She encouraged the young man, spurring him to action so that the crew could get under way swiftly, without attracting unwanted attention. And so, without telling his long-suffering mother Penelope, Telemachus headed out to sea, to find what word he could about the fate of his long-lost father. And the gray-eyed goddess accompanied the son of her favorite, to protect and support him on his journey.

  Telemachus’ Journey

  Telemachus’ first stop was Pylos, the kingdom ruled by Nestor, who had arrived home from Troy safe and sound. The wise old king maintained his regal bearing, despite the burden of his years and the many losses he had endured in his long lifetime. He was tall, with flowing white hair and silken beard, and his dark eyes flashed with sagacious mirth. He welcomed Telemachus, who accompanied Nestor to his palace and listened with rapt attention as the old man told him of his return from Troy.

  “There’s little I can say about Odysseus” voyage, since he and I parted company almost immediately after leaving the shores of Troy. After many days of sailing we reached the rolling Argive lands, where Diomedes steered his vessels to shore, and made his way safely home. However, I have heard that his days of sorrow did not end there. Discovering his wife’s infidelity, forced upon her by Aphrodite in retaliation for the wound he gave her at Troy, he left Argos and wandered far from his homeland. In foreign lands, he aided a king against his enemies, but was repaid with treachery and death. It is said that in their great mourning his men caught the attention of the gods on Olympus, who transformed them into herons, and still they keep watch over his tomb.

  “I sailed on for Pylos. And although I made it back in one piece, it was a bitter-sweet return for me. My own dear son, brave Antilochus, had fallen before windy Troy, as had so many others. We lost Ajax of Salamis, the most able of the Greeks after Achilles, who fell on his own sword out of shame and never saw home again. Patroclus lost his life to mighty Hector before the walls of Troy as he led the Myrmidons in defense of the Greek ships. And Achilles’ life-thread was cut there too, as he knew it was destined to be. Many of the Greek host met death in those long years of war. But their fame lives on, for in the wide halls bards sing of their deeds, and that is the only immortality attainable by man.”

  After finishing his tale, Nestor offered Telemachus the use of a fine chariot and team to carry him swiftly overland to Sparta, where Menelaus ruled with Helen at his side. To accompany Telemachus on his journey Nestor chose his own son Peisistratus, and together the two young men set off with the rising sun in their eyes.

  Telemachus left Nestor’s palace and journeyed on to Menelaus at Sparta.[79]

  The companions stopped for nothing. Even the rugged and gorge-riven Taygetus mountains didn’t slow their pace, and two days later they reached the rich lands of Sparta in the Eurotas valley. The palace of the red-haired king was filled with the sights and sounds of revelry, for it was a time for weddings. Hermione, the lovely daughter of Menelaus and white-armed Helen, was being prepared for her journey to far Phthia. She was betrothed to the godlike son of Achilles, Neoptolemus, king of the Myrmidons. The gallant Megapenthes, Menelaus’ son by one of his concubines, was also to be married in the palace; and so the halls echoed with the sounds of music and good cheer.

  The noble travelers were made welcome. Peisistratus introduced Telemachus to Menelaus, and the Spartan king was overjoyed to see him, for he glimpsed a young Odysseus in his guest’s face. Just then Helen descended from her upper chamber to join them at the banquet, and her beauty dazzled all present into momentary silence. The evening passed, and the young guests were regaled with tales of the exploits of the Greeks at Troy, and especially of wily Odysseus, until dawn approached and the eastern sky was tinged with a fresh rosy glow. For earlier Helen had slipped a drug into the wine that had the property of banishing care and grief, for a while.

  Later in the day, after all had taken their rest, Telemachus rejoined Menelaus in the great hall and, giving him a full account of his troubles at home, pleaded for news of his father. In reply Menelaus recounted for Telemachus the tale of his own return. “My brother Agamemnon and I,” he said, “parted ways on the sandy shore of Troy. I sailed my ships down the rich Phoenician coast, where we stayed long in the luxurious courts of those merchant kings. For seven years we tarried, Helen and I, but at last I felt compelled to see once more the peaks and plains of home.

  “High winds swept our ships over the seas, until we made land in far-off Egypt. But when we sought to depart from there, the gods forbade us a swift voyage home. I had offended them by failing to honor them first, as is their due. Inviting the wrath of the gods will surely bring a man nothing but a grievous end. Take, for example, Locrian Ajax, that intrepid warrior, who, I’m told, met his fate in the surging sea. Athena punished him for his violation of ill-fated Cassandra in her own holy sanctuary. Zeus loaned the dread goddess his thunderbolt to hurl at the fleet, and her aim was unerring. Ajax fell overboard, but he clung to some rocks, all the while jeering at the gods: ‘You can’t kill me!’ Poseidon had wished to spare him, in spite of Athena’s ire. But even he became annoyed by the reckless hero’s raving. With a single stroke of his trident, he split the rock, and the brave son of Oileus was dragged down to the depths, his lungs filling with brine. Only fools mock the gods.

  “But I was not stranded long in Egypt, thanks to Proteus, the Old Man of the Sea, and his wise daughter Eidothea. On Pharos Island I learned from them of my transgression and the duty required of me before I could return home. In reparation, we made rich sacrifices to all the gods and prayed for aid along the way, so that Helen and I might return with all the fabulous wealth gained from our travels in foreign lan
ds. And at last we made a happy homecoming, unlike my royal brother, proud Agamemnon, who was destined to return only to schemes and murder.

  “Now to answer your question,” continued the Spartan king. “Proteus also shared with me some news of your father, long-suffering Odysseus. He said he had glimpsed him pining on the shores of Ogygia, Calypso’s isle. She held him there as her captive, a slave to her own purposes. Without ship or crew he had no chance of sailing for home.”

  The news at once depressed and cheered Telemachus. His father was probably still alive, but there was no telling when or if he would get home. It was therefore up to him, Telemachus, to take care of the troubles at home. He refused Menelaus’ invitation to stay longer. Until his home and hearth were free of the wasteful and arrogant suitors it was best he should not tarry. Menelaus felt proud for Odysseus, that he should be the father of such a son, and prayed that soon he might be restored to his family.

  Menelaus introduces Telemachus to Helen, and she guesses he is the son of Odysseus.[80]

  Presently Helen joined them, and lavished upon Telemachus rich guest-gifts to enhance his reputation and household. The shining chariot and team were prepared, and the princes sprang aboard. With a flick of the whip they set off back to sandy Pylos. Telemachus told his hosts there that he would sail immediately for Ithaca. They bade one another fond farewells, and the pilot set a course for home.

  Odysseus on Scheria

  While Odysseus slept on the island of Scheria under the trees near the river’s mouth, his divine ally, Athena, went into the palace of Alcinous, good king of the sea-faring Phaeacians. Disguised as a childhood companion, she appeared before Nausicaa, the royal princess. Nausicaa was as sensible as she was beautiful, and each of the young noblemen of the island dreamt of having her for his wife. Athena put the idea into her mind to go to the river’s edge with her maids and do the laundry. She asked her father to call for a wagon and mules, and when all was prepared the young ladies trundled off to the washing pools.

  Odysseus was roused by the sounds of splashing and gay laughter issuing from upriver not far from where he had his mulchy bed. He rose and crept forward, keeping to the trees for cover, and spied the band of girls on the bank of the river. The maids and their mistress, lovely Nausicaa, had finished the washing and laid out the garments and fine linens to dry on warm rocks lining the river bank. While some bathed themselves in the stream, others played a ball game with the sparkling-eyed princess, and still others laid out on a cloth on the ground delicacies and sweet wine mixed with clear water.

  Pricked by his great need, Odysseus crept forward, all naked as he was, and knelt at the feet of the princess. Never one to panic, the young woman responded graciously to his pleas for help, although her girls had taken fright at the sudden appearance of the filthy stranger in their midst. She had her women take him off to bathe in the river, and then they dried him and rubbed him down with olive oil, while she chose a soft tunic and fine cloak from the freshly washed clothes. Once he was dressed, Athena made him seem taller and more handsome than ever, and the women were amazed.

  “Odysseus crept forward, all naked as he was, and knelt at the feet of the princess.”[81]

  Nausicaa realized she had given aid to no common man. Then the modest princess advised her noble suppliant to follow her as she made her way back to town in the wagon. She warned him, for modesty’s sake, to separate from the company of ladies when they approached the gates. He was to enter alone and ask for directions to the palace of Alcinous, her father.

  Shrouded in mist by Athena, Odysseus found his way to the palace. Once inside, he strode briskly to the seat of Queen Arete, royal wife of Alcinous. As he knelt down and clasped her knees in supplication the mist dissipated. The queen was amazed at the stranger suddenly in their midst. Looking him over, she couldn’t help noticing that he wore clothing she herself had spun, and she guessed he had received aid from Nausicaa. She smiled at her husband, who was sitting by her side, and welcomed Odysseus with kind and honest words.

  Without offering his name, nimble-witted Odysseus related the tale of the shipwreck that left him at the mercy of Calypso, until after seven long years she released him. He told how he left the island on his raft, only to be shipwrecked again on the shores of Scheria, where Nausicaa had found him. He shared his fervent desire to return once again to his homeland, to sit once more before his own hearth, with his loyal wife at his side. Alcinous and Arete were moved by his heartfelt words, and agreed without hesitation to aid him in his quest. They were not so impolite as to ask him for his name, for he was clearly a man of standing and deserved their discretion and their hospitality.

  The following day King Alcinous called a meeting of his counselors. He ordered a fast ship to be manned and equipped to carry their long-suffering guest back to his homeland. The assembly agreed with one voice to the plan, and the work was immediately set in motion. When all was ready, the good king next called the ship’s crew together with the noblemen of the realm to join him in the palace where a sacrifice was prepared to honor the gods, as is proper for those who seek safe passage across the vast expanse of the hostile and restless sea. After the ritual and the appropriate prayers to Zeus and all the immortals, a feast was prepared, and the bard, Demodocus, was summoned to sing of heroic deeds of times gone by.

  When Demodocus had finished his lay, the good king called the men to demonstrate their prowess in games of strength and skill for their noble guest. Odysseus was invited to join in, but the travel-weary warrior politely refused. Yet he was goaded on by another young nobleman, Euryalus, who rashly incited the hero’s anger with his insults and sarcasm. “Yes,” he said, “I never took you for a noble, worthy to join our games. You look more like a sailor, thinking only of risk and profit.”

  Quick-tongued Odysseus eloquently stunned the offender into silence and, following words with deeds, grasped an enormous discus and hurled it aloft. It sang in the air as it hurtled beyond the marks of the others lately thrown by the competitors. Athena, disguised as a spectator, marked where the stone landed and declared Odysseus the clear winner.

  After the games, Alcinous commanded that the ship be loaded with gifts appropriate for a royal guest, and called for a celebration in his wide hall as a proper send-off for crew and passenger. Euryalus approached Odysseus with a fine sword of bronze as atonement, which was graciously accepted. In good humor, the banqueters sat down to the delicious feast laid before them. The bard was again summoned to ply his trade, as only those gifted by the Muses can.

  The tale the inspired Demodocus told was that of the final ploy of the Greeks to enter the bronze gates of Troy. The stratagem was conceived by crafty Odysseus himself. Within a hollow wooden horse of monumental size crouched the concealed Greeks, ready for ambush. The bard’s song brought tears of remembrance to the eyes of the stranger in their midst, and Alcinous called for silence. He spoke gently to his guest, questioning him at last about his identity, his parents, and his homeland. And Odysseus launched into his tale of woe.

  The Cyclops Polyphemus

  “I am Odysseus, son of Laertes, commander of men. Home for me is sea-girt Ithaca, though I have not set eyes upon her welcome shores for many years. Nor do I know what fate has befallen my wife and son, who was a mere babe when I reluctantly set out for Troy. Not even the womanly wiles of golden-haired Calypso or the sorceress Circe could persuade me to forget home and hearth, where all good men yearn to be if, by the will of the gods, they are kept apart from their loved ones.

  “Home was uppermost in my mind when with twelve ships I at last set sail from the shores of Troy. With an eye to further enrichment we sailed first to the land of the Cicones in Thrace, where our raids netted us many oxen and sheep, and captive women to warm our beds. For showing him mercy, a priest of Apollo there, Maron, gave me some of his very finest wine. This vintage would serve me well in later days. But some of the men lingered over their feasting and drinking. Soon local reinforcements swarmed down from the hi
lls in retaliation against us. Before we could take to the fast ships dozens of men were struck down, and we lost most of our plunder. It was with considerably lowered spirits that we continued on our way, mourning our lost comrades.

  “The helmsman’s skill and fair weather brought us near to home, but at Cape Maleas the north wind blew up strong and sent us far off course, out into open seas. After ten days my crew and I arrived at the strange land of the Lotus-Eaters. The magical fruit they eat makes men forget everything, and fills them with the desire only to eat lotus and more lotus. On first sampling the fruit, our landing party nearly succumbed to this evil. It took a great deal of effort to hustle them aboard, and even then they had to be restrained from jumping ship and swimming ashore.

  “Next we reached the land of the Cyclopes, those lawless, one-eyed giants, who disdain the gods. Each acts as a law unto himself and recognizes no authority but his own. We beached our ships on an offshore island rich in produce and grazing lands for sheep and goats. With renewed optimism we slung our weapons over our shoulders and set out to hunt. In no time a large herd of goats appeared and we picked off dozens of them. With hindsight I see that we should have sailed on straight away, without investigating further, but curiosity got the better of me.

  “After a night of feasting and healing sleep, we woke just as dawn began to glow in the east. Little knowing what we were about to encounter, I told the men that I would take my ship and crew across to the mainland to seek out any inhabitants. As we glided across toward the mainland, we spied a flock of sheep and goats near a large cave. Outside the cave we could make out the silhouette of an enormous being. Still I was not to be put off—I wanted to know what sort of people these were. With twelve men and a large goatskin of the rich wine given me by Maron, I set out to see for myself.