The Voyage of Odysseus (The Adventures of Odysseus Book 5)

by Glyn Iliffe

  ‘Row!’ Eurybates shouted.

  The crew took up their oars and hauled the galley back out to sea. They were barely a dozen lengths from the shore when Polyphemus found another boulder and – looking directly at the struggling Ithacans as if he could see them – heaved it above his head. Odysseus threw down the pole and fought his way to the stern.

  ‘Cyclops, you ask for the name of the one who put out your eye. Then listen to me. My name is Odysseus, son of Laertes, king of Ithaca and sacker of cities. When men ask who could have blinded one as powerful as you – a son of Poseidon – then tell them my name.’

  The Cyclops dropped his boulder and fell to his knees.

  ‘Then the prophecy I was given in my youth has come true. Telemus told me that a warrior called Odysseus would take away my sight, and in my pride I had imagined an enemy at least my own size and strength. But as the years passed I found no-one to match me, even among the race of the Cyclopes, and my fear of Telemus’s words faded until I forgot them altogether. Now you come, a mere man, addling my senses with your wine and fooling me with a trick. Damn you! But I am not defeated, not yet. Poseidon is still my father.’ Raising his maimed face to the sky, he stretched out his arms and spoke in a loud voice. ‘Lord Poseidon, Earthshaker, God of the Seas, hear your son. Grant that Odysseus, son of Laertes, will never see his home again. But if it is the will of Zeus that he should do so, then let him come late, a friendless outcast in a ship not his own. And let him find strife on Ithaca when he returns.’

  His booming voice rolled across the waves, the words terrible in Odysseus’s ears. Then, as the king watched in taut silence, the Cyclops picked up the rock and hurled it at the galley. It landed with a great splash astern, in the exact place the ship had been moments before. Water drenched the Ithacans, but to their relief the ensuing wave carried them swiftly away from the shore and the monster’s wrath.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  THE RULER OF THE WINDS

  Odysseus’s first action on their return to the wide bay where the rest of the fleet lay at anchor was to sacrifice the ram that had brought him safely out of the cave. He offered its life to Poseidon, asking the god for safe passage to Aeolus’s island. Eperitus felt the sacrifice was more an appeasement than an appeal and doubted the Earthshaker would be mollified.

  The next day they awoke before dawn and were pulling at the oars by the time the sun rimmed the eastern horizon. Having tricked Polyphemus into telling him that Aeolus’s island was within sight of the cliffs above his cave, and that the morning sun reflected on the bronze walls of the palace, Odysseus had deduced that the island could only be a short distance to the west. Sure enough they soon spotted a small island to the north with a flattened peak on its western side. A metallic glint from the top of the hill had to be the battlements of Aeolus’s palace. Taking heart from the sight, the steersmen ordered the sails to be raised to the full and pointed their prows to the north-west.

  It did not take long before Eperitus could see high cliffs sheering up from the waves that frothed at their base. On the south side two stone spurs reached out to form a natural anchorage large enough to protect the whole fleet. And yet there were no vessels of any size in the bay or on the sandy beach that rimmed it, and no houses on the clifftops above. Only a single path winding up the face of the cliff suggested habitation, and that might just as easily have been trodden out by the wild sheep visible on the plateau above.

  He reported what he had seen to Odysseus and returned to the bench where Astynome sat with her gaggle of orphans. Catching her eye, he noted the evasive look she had been trying to conquer since the morning before. Something was wrong, but so far she had avoided his questions. She would tell him in her own time, he thought, slipping his arm about her waist and pulling her close. After the horror of the cave and his grief for Antiphus, he had found a new comfort in being with her. And as she laid her head on his shoulder and her pleasant, familiar scent filled his nostrils, he hoped that everything Odysseus had drawn out of Polyphemus was true: that the island’s ruler could tell them the way back to Ithaca and that the years in the wilderness would soon be over. Then, for the first time since his youth, he would know the pleasure of having a family again.

  The air was strangely still as the twelve galleys rowed into the bay and dropped their anchors. Eperitus joined Odysseus, Polites, Omeros and half a dozen others in the shore boat. The king had also ordered Eurylochus to join them, preferring to have him close at hand than leave him on the galley where he could foment trouble. They beached the boat and approached a pool at the foot of the cliff, where Odysseus splashed cold water over his face. He raised a handful to his lips and drank deeply, letting it run down his beard and neck.

  ‘We are not in the habit of receiving visitors,’ called a voice above them.

  A grey-haired man with a beard that was long enough to rest on his protruding stomach stood at the top of the looping path. He wore a blue robe and a simple woollen tunic, but had the bearing of a king. Six young men surrounded him, each carrying a spear and a shield.

  ‘Who are you and what is your purpose on Aeolia?’

  Odysseus contemplated the figure standing high above him, then wiped his beard and proceeded to climb the narrow path. Eperitus followed with the others at intervals behind him. When they reached the final bend, Odysseus bowed low before the grey-haired man.

  ‘I am Odysseus, son of Laertes, and these are my companions. We are seeking the way back to our home, Ithaca, and had heard that a man named Aeolus might be able to help us.’

  ‘Who told you that?’

  ‘The Cyclops, Polyphemus.’

  ‘A Cyclops?’ asked the grey-haired man, eyeing him sceptically. ‘Then I wonder you are even alive. But perhaps you aren’t telling us everything about your meeting with this Polyphemus. As for Aeolus, son of Hippotas, you are talking to him, and these others are his sons.’

  Odysseus bowed low again.

  ‘You guess rightly, my lord. Our meeting with the Cyclops was not a genial one and it cost the lives of six of my men. Indeed, we have faced many trials on our voyage so far and would be grateful for a place to shelter and rest a little before we move on again. Perhaps –’

  ‘As I said, we are not in the habit of receiving visitors, especially so many at once. You ask too much of our hospitality.’

  Eurylochus snorted and Eperitus shot him a silencing stare.

  ‘But you can help us find our home,’ Odysseus persisted. ‘Polyphemus may have been a monster, but he believed in your reputation. Can you tell us the way to Ithaca or not?’

  Aeolus leaned in to one of his sons and spoke in a low whisper. Eurylochus kicked impatiently at a stone and spat.

  ‘Six spears against six hundred and they think they can keep us begging at their doors like a pack of hounds,’ he said, none too quietly. ‘Anyone else might look down at a bay full of galleys and take a more welcoming approach.’

  ‘You think I should fear you?’ Aeolus asked, his narrowed eyes boring into Eurylochus. ‘You think I don’t have power of my own, power enough to defeat a band of marauding pirates and send them all to the bottom of the sea? Then you think wrong.’

  He raised his hand, and immediately the warm, flat air was split by a blast of howling wind. It caught the cloaks of the Ithacans and pushed them almost to the edge of the path, before passing down the cliff face and driving a channel across the surface of the harbour. At a flick of Aeolus’s finger, a sail was torn from one of the galleys and sent whirling up into the sky, only falling back into the sea when the old man lowered his hand again. Eperitus looked open-mouthed at Odysseus, whose own expression was one of controlled alarm.

  ‘I know the way to Ithaca, lord Odysseus,’ Aeolus announced. ‘But why would I tell you and have you lead the outside world back here? This is a happy place. We don’t suffer the troubles that plague mankind and we do not welcome having them brought to our doorstep. So when you leave here you will find yourself in a thick fog, and
when you emerge from it, Aeolia will be nowhere in sight and far beyond your ability to find it again. You will be left to your own devices and the mercy of the gods.’

  ‘You speak of the gods and in the same breath send us away like beggars,’ Odysseus said, his voice soft and reasonable. ‘But we are not beggars. We are suppliants and we call upon you to honour the gods. As Zeus is my witness I implore you to treat us as your guests and respect the laws of xenia.’

  Aeolus looked at him and then shook his head slowly as he turned to leave.

  ‘A pirate is not worthy of being treated with honour.’

  ‘We are not pirates, Aeolus, as one look at us will tell you. We are Greek soldiers returning from the siege of Troy, where for ten hard years we suffered and died. And I am no common warrior, but a king who was considered an equal by Agamemnon, Achilles, Ajax and a host of others. Would you turn away a man of noble blood?’

  ‘Yes, if he was a threat to the peace of this island,’ Aeolus responded. ‘But I am not so isolated here that I have not heard of this war between Greece and Troy – though the last I knew the fighting still raged. Is that no longer the case?’

  He stood with his back to the Ithacans, but even Eperitus could sense the change in his attitude. Whereas before he had been eager to see the newcomers gone, now he hesitated. Odysseus took two paces forward.

  ‘The siege is over, my lord. I could tell you a little of how it ended, but such an account cannot be hurriedly blurted out under a mid-morning sun. Like all great stories, it needs wine and an open fire beneath the stars – or better still, between the echoing walls of a hall where men gather to hear songs of death and glory. However, I agree there are too many of us for such a small island and respect your wish for us to go. We will depart as soon as we have replaced the sail on the galley you –’

  ‘There are too many of you, Odysseus,’ Aeolus said, ‘but you are right: to turn you away would dishonour the gods. I will permit you and two of your companions to come to my palace tonight, and in return you will tell me the outcome of the war. Your men have enough supplies to feed themselves here for one night, I hope?’

  ‘For several nights.’

  ‘One night will be enough,’ Aeolus told him. ‘I will send a slave this evening to show you and your companions the way. Be ready.’

  Eperitus brushed Astynome’s cheek with the backs of his fingers. Her bronzed skin was soft and appealing, but the dark eyes that he loved so much were still hiding their secret from him.

  ‘You’ll be safe with Polites,’ he reassured her.

  ‘But will you be safe? I don’t trust this Aeolus. He’s no Cyclops, but it’s clear he doesn’t want us here either.’

  ‘Would you welcome an army of six hundred men into your home? Besides, what choice do we have? We’re lost in a place where even the stars betray us. Aeolus is our only hope of ever finding Ithaca again so we have to win his favour. If anyone can do that, it’s Odysseus.’

  Astynome looked sceptical.

  ‘You forget he’s been leading us from one near disaster to another. A king who has lost the patronage of the gods is… is a liability.’

  Eperitus kissed her fingers.

  ‘I still have faith in him.’

  He took the path to the plateau above where Odysseus and Omeros were waiting with Aeolus’s guide. They set off through a land that was flat and lightly wooded with hundreds of sheep moving through the scrub in loose, unshepherded flocks. The high roofs of their host’s palace were soon visible on a flat-topped hill at the western end of the plain, where the circuit of bronze walls gleamed in the evening sunlight. Before long they climbed the hill and passed through unguarded gates into a wide courtyard. Up to that point there had been no hint of a breeze – something that struck Eperitus as strange on a sea-girt island – but once inside the walls a strong wind rushed across the courtyard and slammed the gates shut behind them. Eperitus caught Omeros’s eye and saw the poet was as perplexed as he was, but before either could comment their guide was leading them across the open space towards the palace. Lights shone from the windows of both storeys, but otherwise it was quiet and unwelcoming.

  ‘Through here,’ he said, ushering them between large wooden doors into a gloomy antechamber where torches sputtered on the walls and more doors were visible in the shadows at the back of the room.

  ‘I don’t like this,’ Eperitus said in a low voice.

  ‘We’re safe enough,’ Odysseus replied, ‘as long as you let me do the talking.’

  The slave pointed to the swords strapped to their sides.

  ‘Your weapons, please.’

  Odysseus surrendered his without hesitation, followed by Omeros and – with reluctance – Eperitus. The doors swung open to reveal a columned hall with a circular hearth burning at its centre. Behind the hearth was a long table where Aeolus and his six sons were seated in silence, their features distorted by the rising heat. The Ithacans were led to another table opposite them and directed to sit. Ever conscious for Odysseus’s safety, Eperitus scanned the shadows for concealed figures and noticed rich murals half-hidden in the darkness. On the back wall boldly coloured waves rose up to consume a fleet of galleys with shredded sails and snapped masts, while to his right was a lifelike fresco of armoured warriors fighting each other before the lofty ramparts of a great city. His attention was momentarily caught by the dismembered bodies lying about the battlefield, portrayed with a careless glee that was unconcerned with the horrible reality of war. Then a side door opened and two female slaves brought baskets of flatbread and cold meat, which they deposited on the empty table before the Ithacans. Another followed and poured each man a krater of wine.

  ‘Eat,’ Aeolus commanded, indicating the plain food before them. There was nothing on his own table.

  The guests poured libations into the flames and returned to their table. Odysseus rolled together a piece of bread and a slice of mutton and took a large bite. Eperitus and Omeros followed his lead, washing down each dry mouthful with wine that was clearly not their host’s best. Aeolus watched them for a while with disdainful eyes, then with a discreet gesture dismissed the slaves.

  ‘You claim to have participated in the war against Troy,’ he said, ‘and indeed I have heard that a man named Odysseus was a lesser king in Agamemnon’s army. But how do I know that you are he? After all, unscrupulous men will claim to be what they are not if it will earn them a scrap of bread and a swallow of wine.’

  Odysseus laid down his half-eaten food on the table and looked Aeolus in the eye.

  ‘Why would any man claim he was Odysseus? Achilles perhaps, or Great Ajax, but not Odysseus, the least of the least. Who would profess to be the king of Ithaca when he could pretend to rule Sparta, Athens or Corinth? Unless he was Odysseus, of course.’

  ‘We shall see,’ Aeolus replied with an amused smile. ‘Perhaps the test will be in the truth of your tale. The gods made me ruler of the winds, and is there anywhere on earth that the winds do not visit? Does anything happen under the sun that they do not know about? Will I not then know if you are a warrior returned from Troy or a mere beggar dressing himself in the robes of better men?’

  ‘You’ll find I’m no beggar, my lord, and I doubt you’ll have heard the things I have to tell. For one thing, these winds you command must lack a voice. For if they’d spoken to you of things far and wide then surely you would’ve known the war at Troy had ended. Wouldn’t you also have questioned my ability to pretend I was Achilles or Ajax, since both men are dead? No, the truth is that you are the charlatan, not I! You rule over a lonely rock in the middle of an uncharted sea with just your sons and slaves for company. And you’re hungry for news of the outside world because you sit here in ignorance, gleaning morsels of information from lost sailors whom you treat with open contempt before sending them on their way again –’

  ‘Silence!’ shouted one of the young men, jumping to his feet. ‘If you weren’t a guest in my father’s house I’d strike your worthless head from i
ts shoulders and –’

  ‘Sit down please, Androcles,’ Aeolus commanded. ‘Our guest may be a little brash in the presence of his betters, but he has at least shown himself to be intelligent and discerning. And you are right, Odysseus: the winds see much but say little. I live in happy ignorance on this rock, as you call it, where visitors are few and far between. For that reason I hope you will forgive me if I forget some of my obligations as host. But if life here is peaceful and idyllic by the standards of mankind, it can also be dull. A little news of the outside world would therefore be welcome. You say the war is over, but you failed to say who won. You also tell us that Achilles and Ajax are dead, but not how they fell. Clearly you have a tale to tell and I would be glad to hear it.’

  Odysseus lifted his wine to his lips and gave a little grimace.

  ‘A man’s tongue functions better when greased with a higher quality of wine.’

  Androcles frowned and balled up his fists on the table, but Aeolus clapped his hands and called for his slaves. Women appeared with cups for Aeolus and his sons, which a steward filled with dark wine. Another slave approached the Ithacans with the same wine as before, but Aeolus waved her away and ordered his steward to fill Odysseus’s cup. Odysseus took a long draft and nodded contentedly, before indicating the empty vessels of his comrades. The steward glanced at Aeolus, who gave him a sharp look in return. Eperitus took a mouthful. The difference in quality was notable.

  After the slaves had left, Odysseus told Omeros to remove his tortoiseshell lyre from his bag and play a tune. Then, when everyone’s moods had been eased by the mixture of wine and music, he stood.