by Glyn Iliffe
‘On my oath they are safe and well. Indeed, they are the happiest they have been for many months.’
So they had succumbed to the sun-bronzed flesh of the half-naked women, Odysseus thought. That seemed like Eurylochus – putting his own pleasure before his duty. And yet he sensed the Old One was keeping something from him. Something he could not yet see, but which his instincts were railing against.
‘If you’ve lied to me on oath, then xenia will not protect you.’
The Old One simply smiled and looked across to where the men and women were returning with large baskets under their arms. They were filled with brownish-red fruits a little larger than dates. Several of the others jumped to their feet and rushed forward, groping for the fruit.
‘Wait!’ the Old One shouted, sitting up suddenly. ‘Our guests must eat first.’
The men and women scowled at him, but returned to their places.
‘Tell me, Ithacan,’ he continued, ‘have you ever been offered wine as a guest-gift?’
‘Of course.’
‘And only the finest, no doubt.’
Odysseus thought about Maron, the priest of Apollo whose life he and Eperitus had saved. He had rewarded them with rich gifts, but the most precious had been the wine.
‘Yes.’
‘Then you will not be insulted if we don’t offer you ingots of gold or copper tripods, of which we have none, but instead give you something more potent and pleasurable than any wine you will ever have tasted? The lotus.’
He stood and took a basket from one of the women. Walking over to the Ithacans, he handed them a fruit each, giving the last one to Odysseus. The men and women watched him greedily.
‘Eat and be happy,’ he said.
‘After you, my friend.’
The Old One shrugged and smiled. Plucking a handful of the lotus from the basket, he tossed them into the straw. A group of men and women scrambled to snatch them up, fighting each other over the last few. Odysseus watched disdainfully as they bit into the fruit and sucked out the juice, while around them others wiped the juice from their chins and licked it from their fingers.
‘I told you it was good,’ the Old One laughed. ‘Now, where was it I saw your friends?’
Odysseus took the hint and bit into the fruit. It tasted bitter and the flesh was tough. All around him the lotus eaters who had already taken the fruit were slumping to the ground, smiles spreading across their faces as they gazed up at the open skies where the ceiling had once been. Then there was a sound behind him and a voice boomed out across the hall.
‘Spit it out, Odysseus. Spit it out!’
Odysseus spat the fruit onto the straw. Eperitus appeared before him, a bloody sword in one hand and a pitcher of water in the other.
‘Here, swill it out. Don’t swallow any of it.’
Odysseus took a mouthful of water from the pitcher and sluiced it between his cheeks before spitting it out again. Omeros, who had also taken a bite of fruit, coughed it out and snatched the water from Odysseus’s hand. Meanwhile, Eperitus turned to the Old One and knocked the basket from his hand so that the fruit spilled over the floor. The lotus eaters pounced after it, but a shout from the Old One stopped them.
‘Leave it. Block the doors. They mustn’t escape.’
Eperitus hauled Odysseus up by his elbow.
‘How do you feel?’
‘Fine. Was it poisoned?’
‘Worse than that. I’ll explain later. First we must get out of here.’
Antiphus and Omeros were already beside them, their swords drawn. They looked at the doorway and saw the lotus eaters crowding before it. Their faces were twisted in anger as they fed off each other’s emotions, reacting to the threat not as individuals but as a pack. Odysseus sensed its potential and knew he had to act before their rage found its momentum. He strode forward, pushing aside a young woman who stepped into his path. When a man lurched towards him he struck him hard with his fist, knocking him to the ground. Worryingly, the man seemed not to notice the pain and rose to his feet again at once, blood seeping from the gash on his cheek. The flash of violence sparked something in the once docile lotus eaters, who now pressed forward towards Odysseus. Eperitus appeared at his right shoulder, thrusting into the wall of bodies and pushing them back easily. Hands reached out for the drawn sword, gripping the blade and releasing it again with yelps of pain as the keen edge sliced through their skin. For a moment the mob wavered. Antiphus and Omeros appeared at Odysseus’s other flank, shouldering their way into the crowd and driving them back. Odysseus and Eperitus joined them and together they pressed forward, ignoring the punches that were thrown at them. A woman tried to bite Odysseus’s forearm, but he butted his forehead into her face and she collapsed with a groan. Fists were now beating at their unguarded backs and feet were kicking at their legs as more lotus eaters closed in behind them. Then their greater strength defeated the throng of weaker men and women before them and suddenly they were at the open doors of the great hall.
‘Come on, quickly,’ Odysseus shouted.
They ran through the rubble-strewn antechamber and out onto the portico, where the bright sunshine was almost blinding compared to the columns of dusty light in the hall. A roar of anger followed behind, driving them down the steps to the broad square below. Odysseus sprinted to the left, back in the same direction they had come the evening before. He was aware of the others on either side of him, but even more of the rush of naked feet on the cracked flagstones close behind.
People were appearing in the streets ahead, curious at the angry voices that were desecrating the usual silence. Eperitus could hear the cries of the lotus eaters as if they were at his very heels, though a glance over his shoulder showed him their thin legs were tiring and leaving them further behind.
‘We’re outpacing them,’ Antiphus shouted. ‘If these others don’t cause us any trouble we’ll soon be away and safe.’
They turned a corner onto the long avenue that led to the remains of the old gatehouse. More men and women were leaving the ruined houses before them and lining the sides of the street, though they seemed more bewildered than angry. That they would not oppose the Ithacans’ escape was clear, but they were not the only obstacle standing between the handful of warriors and freedom.
‘Stop,’ Eperitus called. ‘We can’t leave yet.’
The others pulled up and turned to look at him.
‘Why not?’ Odysseus asked.
‘Eurylochus is here, in the town.’
Antiphus and Omeros looked at the king, who after a moment’s hesitation pointed to a nearby alley.
‘Quick, down here.’
They crammed into the narrow gap and ran in single file between the high, crumbling walls. Eperitus was the last through and heard the clamour of voices burst into the avenue behind him, then surge past towards the ruined gatehouse. It would not be long before they realised their mistake and were directed down the alley by the other lotus eaters. His companions knew it too and followed the twists and turns of the passage at a sprint, not pausing until they reached another street. Without waiting, Odysseus turned left and led them in the direction of the palace. When they were sure they were not being pursued, Odysseus signalled a halt and pulled them into a doorway. Already the inquisitive but dispassionate eyes of other lotus eaters were watching them from the buildings on either side.
‘Where is he?’ Odysseus asked Eperitus.
‘If we can get to the side of the palace I can lead you to him from there. But we need to be quick. If the lotus eaters get there before we do they’ll murder them.’
‘Murder armed warriors?’ Antiphus scoffed. ‘Not without dozens of their own being slain first.’
‘When I saw Eurylochus and the others they didn’t even have clothes, let alone their weapons and armour,’ Eperitus answered. ‘We have to keep going.’
Antiphus and Omeros set off towards the palace, but before Eperitus could follow, Odysseus took him by the arm.
‘Why are you saving him?
If you’d said nothing we would have carried on none the wiser and you’d have rid yourself of an enemy.’
‘I don’t give a damn about Eurylochus, but the others are good soldiers. They don’t deserve to die at the hands of a mob.’
‘So if it had just been my cousin you’d have left him to his fate?’
Eperitus shrugged his shoulders.
‘But it’s not just him, is it. Now, let’s go before the lotus eaters find us.’
They caught up with the others at the corner of a building that looked out on the large square. It was empty, though Eperitus sensed it was being watched. Without waiting, he dashed across the open space towards the side of the palace, where the overgrown garden was visible through the collapsed wall. The others followed him to the mouth of the alleyway where, after a glance over their shoulders at the still-empty square, they drew their swords. Cautiously they advanced to where the passage bent sharply to the right and led on to the house where Eperitus had found Eurylochus and the others. Several corpses lay piled across each other in the courtyard before it.
‘We’re too late!’ Antiphus exclaimed.
‘No we’re not,’ Eperitus said. ‘Those bodies are my doing. I had no choice: they came to murder Eurylochus and when I stood in their way they attacked me.’
They entered the courtyard where the lotus eaters lay. The sight of their bodies filled Eperitus with shame. There had been no honour in slaying men armed only with daggers, but they had attacked with such frenzy that he had been forced to kill them all. His guide had also died in the fray – stabbed between the shoulder blades as he tried to run – and now lay in a pool of his own blood on the flagstones.
Odysseus stepped over the bodies and through the open door, where the three Ithacans were still in a stupor. He rolled one of the sleeping women aside and knelt down by his cousin, who was moaning gently. His pupils were staring up into the top of his head so that only the whites of his eyes showed. Omeros and Antiphus knelt beside Eurylochus’s companions, while the king lifted his cousin’s head into his lap and slapped his cheek gently.
‘After I killed the lotus eaters I tried to revive him but couldn’t,’ Eperitus said from the doorway. ‘They’re all the same. It’s the effect of the lotus. Had you eaten it, the same would have happened to you; and while your spirits went to wherever theirs have gone, the Old One would have ordered your throats cut. That’s what they do to everyone who comes to this gods-forsaken town. They use the women to seduce them, then they drug them and murder them. If we hadn’t arrived when we did yesterday I’m sure these three would already have been dead; it’s my guess they didn’t want the risk of us finding their bodies before they were sure of having us in the same trap.’
Odysseus’s eyes narrowed with anger as he looked out at the pile of dead lotus eaters outside.
‘Damned monsters. They got what they deserved. Here, pass me that waterskin.’
Eperitus picked up the skin that Eurylochus had taken with him as he had set off the morning before – which was lying discarded against a wall – and tossed it to Odysseus. The king tipped some of the water over Eurylochus’s face. The shock of it made him gasp and jerk upwards with a groan of protest, before dropping back down into Odysseus’s lap. Again Odysseus poured a slop of water into his open mouth, making him gag and forcing his body into a reaction that dragged part of his consciousness back with it.
‘What is it?’ he gasped, his white eyes staring blindly into a corner of the room. ‘Who’s there?’
‘Eurylochus, it’s me, Odysseus.’
‘Leave me alone; I have to go back.’
A half-smile slid across his face and he slumped back into Odysseus’s arms. The king slapped him lightly on the cheek.
‘Listen to me, we’re in danger. We need to get to the ships.’
‘What ships?’ he replied, groggily. ‘Who are you? Why don’t you leave me alone?’
He closed his eyes, but Odysseus poured more water into his mouth. He doubled up sharply, choking.
‘Get up. We’re leaving.’
Odysseus pulled at Eurylochus’s elbow, but Eurylochus tore himself away and staggered to his feet, groping his way into a corner.
‘I don’t want to go with you,’ he pleaded. ‘You’re ruining everything.’
‘The lotus they gave you has done something to your mind, Eurylochus. Wherever it is you think you are, whatever it is you think you’re seeing, it’s not real. The only reality is that unless you come with us now you’re going to die.’
At this, Eurylochus smiled, a look that, with his white, pupil-less eyes, sent a chill down Eperitus’s spine.
‘Those that have shared the ambrosia of the gods cannot die, my friend.’
‘It’s driven him mad,’ said Antiphus.
Eperitus turned suddenly and looked back through the open door.
‘I can hear them. They’re coming.’
Odysseus ran to join him. Moments later the end of the alleyway was crowded with lotus eaters, with the Old One at their head. The men were armed with swords, spears and bows.
‘So what do we do now?’ Antiphus asked, peering over Eperitus’s shoulder.
‘We can drive them back with our swords if we have to,’ Eperitus answered.
Odysseus shook his head. ‘If these men you fought earlier didn’t turn and run, what chance this crowd will? There’s something in the lotus that takes away their fear, and if they outnumber us fifty to one, we wouldn’t stand a chance – warriors or not.’
A shout of anger erupted from the massed lotus eaters as they saw the pile of dead in the courtyard. Several bows twanged discordantly and a number of arrows rattled off the wall around them. Eperitus pushed the decaying door shut and propped his back against it.
‘We’re trapped.’
‘No we’re not,’ said Omeros. ‘There’s another door at the back of the room.’
He ran over and pushed at it with his hands and then his shoulder until it began to edge open into silent darkness. Outside they could hear the shouts of the lotus eaters as they crowded into the courtyard and threw themselves upon the door. Odysseus joined Eperitus, thrusting his weight against the wood.
‘Antiphus, your dagger!’
The archer pulled the blade from his belt and handed it to Odysseus, who fell to one knee and wedged it in the gap beneath the door.
‘That should hold them. Eperitus, Antiphus, you’ll have to carry the others. I’ll bring Eurylochus.’
Eperitus ran to one of the Ithacan scouts and hauled his naked body onto his shoulders. Outside, the shouts were growing angrier and the door began to nudge open. A number of hands gripped the edge, but Antiphus drew his sword and hacked off several fingers. To a chorus of screams, he slammed the door shut again and kicked his dagger back into place before rushing over to the second Ithacan. By this time Eurylochus had slumped into a corner with his head lolling unconsciously onto his shoulder. Odysseus grabbed his wrist and slapped him hard across the face.
‘Go away,’ Eurylochus whined, almost weeping as he tried to drop back into the corner. ‘I want to stay here!’
‘You can’t,’ Odysseus growled.
He punched his cousin in the face, caught him as he slumped to the ground and threw him over his shoulder like a child. The door shuddered behind him and edged inwards.
‘Come on!’ Omeros shouted.
They ran into the room beyond the second door. Despite the near-total blackness, Eperitus could make out twisted shapes on the floor and smell the odour of dust and rotted cloth. Something crunched beneath his sandal and he looked down to see the grey outline of a human skeleton. Like those he had seen in the ruined palace, it must have lain there many years. Then he sensed movement in the air and knew there had to be another way out.
‘Over there,’ he announced as the lotus eaters forced their way into the room behind. ‘Another door.’
He rushed shoulder-first towards the place where he guessed the door would be, barging it open an
d finding himself in a lesser darkness. At the far end of the room was another door, framed by a sliver of light. He ran across and kicked it open, stumbling out into the sudden brightness of a side street. The others piled out after him and fled headlong up the narrow thoroughfare, with the shouts of the lotus eaters echoing off the walls behind them.
‘Which way?’ Omeros shouted, as the side street fed into a broad avenue.
‘Left,’ Eperitus said.
A few arrows fell among them, one bouncing harmlessly off Eperitus’s scabbard. He ran on, cursing the dead weight over his shoulders and wishing he could turn round and face his pursuers. But Odysseus was right. The lotus eaters he had slain in the courtyard had been men possessed. A terrible, inhuman anger had driven them against him; if he stopped to fight now he would have to kill every one of his attackers or die beneath the weight of their numbers – the latter most likely. He ran on.
Other lotus eaters were emerging from the ruins on either side and ahead of them now. Word of their escape must have spread, for this time their faces were not placid but dark and ominous. A child threw a stone as they ran past. A man and woman charged out into the street towards Omeros. With admirable speed, he drew his sword and swung the pommel into the man’s face. Blood splashed across the lotus eater’s cheek and he toppled back into the path of the woman, who jumped over him and ran at Omeros with her fingernails bared. She clawed the side of his head, drawing blood from his ear before he felled her with an instinctive blow to the stomach. For a moment he looked down at her in shock at what he had done, then Odysseus grabbed his arm and propelled him forward.
They ran on. Another street opened to their left and Odysseus led them down it. The lotus eaters were screaming like Furies behind them now, gaining all the time. Then, as Eperitus felt his legs tiring beneath the weight of the man he was carrying, they turned a corner and saw the remnants of the city wall ahead of them. The sight of it gave them new energy and they sprinted towards it, Omeros reaching the wall first and pulling himself up onto the broken battlements. Odysseus pushed Eurylochus’s inert body towards him and Omeros dragged him up onto the rough stone. With the last of his strength, Eperitus almost threw the man he was carrying onto the wall. The Ithacan groaned as Omeros hauled him up, but did not emerge from his stupor.
