by Glyn Iliffe
Eurylochus was out of his depth. Though he insisted on leading the men Odysseus had given him, it was only Eperitus’s guidance that brought them to the pinnacle of rock that he and the king had visited the day before. From its flat crown they could see the same column of smoke angling up from the clearing in the forest below. Eurylochus wiped his sweating brow and heavy jowls with the corner of his cloak.
‘By Zeus, there could be a whole army of those man-eating monsters down there. We should return to the ship at once and tell Odysseus it’s hopeless, or we risk being devoured.’
‘Devoured by what?’ Eperitus scoffed. ‘You’ve seen nothing more than the smoke trail Odysseus and I reported yesterday. Whoever made it might welcome us.’
‘Welcome us as food if our previous encounters are any measure. Carry on alone if you like, but I’ve seen enough.’
‘We were ordered to find out who or what is making that smoke and that’s what we’ll do. Now, you can either lead us there like Odysseus entrusted you to, or I’ll take command while you run back to the camp and show everyone what a coward you are.’
‘So that’s why you came along,’ Eurylochus said. ‘To humiliate me and take my place in command of these men, just like you usurped my rightful place as captain of Odysseus’s guard all those years ago. No, I’ll lead us to the source of the smoke and I’ll bring us all safely back again, which is more than would happen with you in charge!’
Eperitus stared hard into his small, close-set eyes and felt the heat of his temper stiffen his sinews. But as quick as it came he mastered it again. He knew Eurylochus too well to fall into such a simple trap. One day he would go too far, but Eperitus would not let that day come sooner than it had to. For now he was content to bow to Eurylochus’s temporary authority – and hopefully watch him make a mess of it.
The two men descended to rejoin the others waiting below and, with Eurylochus leading, set out in the direction of the smoke. It was downhill and all they needed to do was keep the sun behind them and follow their own shadows. Nevertheless, Eperitus allowed Eurylochus to lose his way two or three times – just enough for his sympathisers to get a taste of what life under his leadership would be like – before quietly steering him back onto the right path. Eurylochus resented the hints, but took them anyway, and eventually, with the sun climbing to its zenith, the dappled gloom of the forest was relieved by a growing lightness ahead of them. They had reached the clearing.
For some time, Eperitus had discerned the distinctive smells of herbs and garden flowers amid the savoury tang of smoke and the natural aromas of the forest. He also became aware of a droning sound pervading the birdsong and the wind in the trees. More concerning were the growls of unknown creatures, which became louder the closer they came to the clearing. Squinting through the trees at the open space ahead, he saw a two-storeyed house set in the middle of a wide lawn. Its walls were of polished stone that gleamed in the sunlight and a trail of smoke tapered up from an unseen hole in its flat roof. The porch was supported by four whitewashed columns entwined with ivy. Beds of wild flowers surrounded the building, some tiny and numerous, others tall and nodding. Together they formed a skirt of colour around the house that was only interrupted by the pigsties and other outbuildings that leaned in ramshackle disorder against its walls. There were several windows with white curtains blowing in the breeze and the air was filled with the humming of bees. After all Eperitus had been through it looked like paradise. And yet his instincts refused to lower their guard.
‘It’s just a house,’ Eurylochus exclaimed, shielding his eyes as they left the shade of the trees. ‘Though like none I’ve ever seen before. There are no battlements, no gates. Whoever lives here must be peaceful.’
‘The Laestrygonians had no battlements or gates,’ Eperitus said. ‘They didn’t need any.’
‘Stay here and gibber about Laestrygonians if you want. This house was made for men, not monsters, and I’m going to see who lives here.’
He crossed the lawn towards the porch. Sensing all was not as it seemed, Eperitus set off after him, determined to reach the house before he did. The rest of the party followed.
‘We’re being watched,’ Polites said, catching up with him.
‘We’ve been watched for some time now, and not by men.’
As he spoke, a roar shook the air and a lion sprang out from behind one of the thick shrubs that dotted the lawn. Eurylochus gave a yelp of terror and stumbled backwards, tripping over himself in an effort to flee. The roar seemed to have been a command, for from behind the house and the other shrubs came more animals, with yet more leaping out from the eaves of the surrounding forest. There were lions with thick manes that trailed down to their huge paws and long-legged mountain wolves with open jaws and hanging tongues.
‘To me!’ Eperitus shouted.
He and Polites unslipped their shields and lowered their spear points as the other Ithacans ran to join them, forming a defensive knot amid the circling animals. Eurylochus struggled to his feet, but the first lion jumped and knocked him back to the ground, pinning his shoulders with its paws and lowering its face towards his. Eperitus’s spear was poised to be thrown, but before he could launch it the lion opened its jaws and passed its tongue over Eurylochus’s cheek. Eurylochus screamed, but was cut short by another sweep of the beast’s tongue. Then, spluttering and spitting, he turned onto his stomach and dragged himself away by his elbows, scrambling hurriedly back to his comrades. Eperitus saw the dark patch spreading over his groin and realised with a smile that he had wet himself.
To the amazement of the Ithacans, some of the other animals rose up on their hind legs and began walking towards them. A wolf approached Eperitus, who raised his shield against it. It scratched the leather with its claws and there was the strangest look of sadness in its brown eyes. It seemed to shake its head, as if warning him away. Indeed, as it leaned its weight against his shield, Eperitus felt it was trying to push him back towards the forest.
‘Lower your weapons!’ he warned the others. ‘Don’t strike them, whatever you do. It’s like they’re –’
He fell short of what he intended to say, realising the thought was absurd.
‘Listen,’ Polites said. ‘I can hear a voice in the house.’
Eperitus heard it at the same time. A woman was singing, the words high and clear and so beautiful that he forgot the beasts and turned to look at the polished double doors in the shadow of the porch.
‘We have to get back and warn the others,’ Eurylochus said. ‘Whoever that is, these animals are under her control. Listen to me, we must leave before they attack us again.’
‘Not until we find out who that voice belongs to,’ Eperitus replied.
The rest of the party looked uncertain. Some gazed at the pack of wolves and lions, others turned to listen to the song floating out from the open windows.
‘I’m in charge here,’ Eurylochus insisted. ‘Come with me now, you fools, or you’ll be torn to shreds!’
‘Torn to shreds?’ Perimedes sneered. ‘What are you talking about? They’re more like dogs than wild animals. Look at them.’
‘Eperitus is right,’ Polites said. ‘The lot fell to us to find out who’s making the smoke. I say we finish what we were sent here to do.’
The rest of the party nodded, though some looked down at their feet and refused to meet Eurylochus’s accusing eye.
‘So be it,’ he said. The animals were grouped between the Ithacans and the porch, leaving the way back to the trees clear. ‘And may the gods give you what your insolence deserves.’
He ran to the eaves of the wood, where Eperitus noticed him slip behind the bole of an oak.
‘Let’s go.’
He led the men towards the house. The lions and wolves growled fiercely now and bore their teeth, but as he had suspected, it was more a warning than a threat. As the Ithacans fell beneath the shadow of the building, the brutes parted and scattered to hide behind the shrubs. Mounting the porch, Eperitus h
ammered his fist against the double doors.
‘Come out! We mean you no harm.’
The doors swung inward at once, almost pitching him forward into the house.
‘Indeed, you could not harm me if you wanted to.’
He looked up to see a wide, airy hall filled with sunlight that poured in through high windows. A long table stretched before him with high-backed chairs on either side. It was set with wooden bowls full of fruit and plates stacked with flatbread. Kraters of wine were waiting on the table and there were wheels of cheese and pots of honey placed at intervals up the centre. All the feast lacked was the smell of roast meat, but for some reason Eperitus was glad of its absence.
‘Enter, my friends. You have faced many trials on your travels, but here you can rest. Be seated. Help yourselves to food and drink.’
It was as if a barrier had been lifted. Eperitus stepped into the hall and for the first time noticed the owner of the voice standing at one side of the table. She was as tall as he was, with white skin and full red lips. More striking still were her green eyes: large with dark lashes, it felt as if they were looking into rather than at him. Flowers were woven into her long red hair and she wore a green chiton fastened at her right shoulder with a brooch. It swept down below her left breast and gathered around her waist, but the material was so thin that her naked form was clearly visible beneath it. There were four other women around the table, all of them young and attractive, though clearly servants by their rough-spun garments and simple cloaks. Aware of the silence of the men behind him, he remembered himself and bowed low before her.
‘Thank you, mistress. My men and I are in need of –’
‘Your men? These men are no more yours than they are mine, though judging by the look in their eyes I would say they are more mine than yours. And we both know that you and they answer to the commands of another, do we not? Now, sit – all of you; I have prepared food for your arrival.’
All but Eperitus now crowded around the table and took their seats, some reaching straight for the wine while others served their hunger first with mouthfuls of bread and cheese. And all stared with a different kind of hunger at their hostess. She looked at Eperitus, still standing by the open doors.
‘I see you are a lord among pigs. Do you refuse to sit because you are stubborn or because you distrust me?’
‘I will let my men eat first.’
‘They are not your men. Neither do they belong to the one who skulks behind that oak yonder. But, nonetheless, you are a lord. Perhaps you don’t sit with your comrades because they disgust you.’
‘Not all of them, my lady. Can I ask –?’
‘When you have eaten you can ask anything you like, and any question you can put to me will be answered. But first you must eat.’
She walked to the far end of the hall where a small hearth was ablaze, sending a trail of smoke up into the rafters where it escaped through a square hole. A large copper pot was balanced on a tripod over the flames, and as she stirred the contents with a wooden ladle her maids brought her bowls of honey and cheese and a krater of wine. These she added to the mixture one by one, and after stirring the mixture again, she began scooping it into wooden bowls held out to her by the servants. These were carried back to the Ithacans who took long draughts accompanied by exclamations of approval and demands for more. But they each only received one bowl, and last of all one of the maids brought a bowl for Eperitus.
‘Drink, my lord,’ she encouraged him. ‘It will make you feel yourself again.’
The bowl was warm in his hands and the smell of the broth was irresistible. He raised it to his lips and swallowed. It tasted wonderful, and yet as his acute senses appreciated the mixed flavours of the honey, wine, barley meal and goat’s cheese in a way that none of the other Ithacans were able to do, so they could also discern a discordant tang. Something else had been added to the broth, something subtle, barely determinable. Something he knew should not be there. He looked at the servant girl and saw the wry smile on her lips. Immediately he spat what was left of the mouthful back into the bowl.
‘Too late,’ she whispered.
‘Yes, too late,’ her mistress said.
She was standing at the head of the table behind the shoulder of Polites. A gnarled stick, no longer than a dagger, was in her hand. Lightly, she tapped the knobbed end on Polites’s shoulder. Then, passing from one man to the next – each looking round at her with a glance that drank in her barely concealed nakedness – she touched each one in turn with the stick. By the time she had reached the end of one side of the table and was passing back up the other, Polites was staring at the back of his hand in confusion. Long hairs were sprouting from the skin, and slowly, impossibly, his fingers seemed to be fusing together in pairs. At the same time, to Eperitus’s astonishment, his arms seemed to be shortening. He slumped forward onto the table, knocking over his wine and scattering some bowls.
‘What’s…?’ he cried.
But his voice was not his own. It was thicker, more nasal and, as Eperitus watched, his face began to change. His nose was turning up and at the same time growing larger, while the flesh of his face was thickening and his eyes receding back into the folds. By now the other Ithacans were undergoing similar transformations, some quicker than others. Many fell from their chairs under the table, where they began making strange squealing sounds. Like pigs.
‘By all the gods, what have you done to them?’ Eperitus shouted.
He leapt forward and caught hold of Perimedes as he kicked his chair back from the table and fell crashing to the floor. And immediately he released him again, crying out in disgust at the disfigured features and lumpish body before him. Looking up in confusion, he saw the woman staring at him in amusement, her arms crossed, with the curious stick in one hand.
‘Stop this! Turn them back!’
‘I shall not.’
‘Why are you doing this? What have we done to you?’
‘Done? Nothing, of course. You are simply men, and men like to fight and rut and dominate their packs. Just like animals. So animals you must become.’
‘Give me that!’ he cried.
He lunged at her, reaching for the stick in her hand. In the same moment a pig ran squealing from beneath the table and knocked him off his feet. His head hit the floor hard and he felt his vision momentarily blacken. Forcing his eyes open, he looked up to see the woman standing over him, the stick raised in her hand.
Then she struck him.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
CIRCE
Odysseus slapped his cousin hard across the cheek. The shock of the blow brought Eurylochus to his senses and he blinked at the king with tear-filled eyes.
‘You’re not making any sense. Tell me where the rest of your party are, at once.’
Odysseus felt sick at heart. Ever since the moment Eurylochus had come stumbling through the trees to the head of the beach he had barely been able to put more than two or three words together, and what he had said was all a nonsense about lions and wolves. But the fact that he was terrified of something and that he had returned alone of the twenty-three men who had left that morning filled Odysseus with misgiving for the fate of half his crew. After his experience at the hands of the Cyclops and the Laestrygonians, the single-minded self-belief that had brought him this far was beginning to crumble. And the thought that Eperitus might not be there at his side for the rest of the voyage home – if the gods ever allowed him to return to Ithaca – seemed suddenly unbearable.
He slapped Eurylochus again.
‘We found the house, the house where the smoke came from.’
‘Where?’
‘In a clearing –’
Eurylochus pointed vaguely behind himself.
‘And the others?’
‘There was a woman. I didn’t see her. I heard her though, singing to herself inside the house. And there were lions and wolves in the clearing –’
‘Together?’
‘Yes, but they fa
wned on us like dogs –’
‘Lions grovelled to you?’
Odysseus looked around at the circle of faces. Eurybates swivelled his eyes and tapped his forehead, while Omeros just continued to rub his chin thoughtfully. Astynome, who was barely able to hide her concern, frowned at the mention of fawning lions.
‘So they didn’t attack you? Then what happened?’
‘Eperitus wanted to find out who was singing. I knew there was something wrong and pleaded with them not to go into the house. But they wouldn’t listen. Eperitus knocked on the doors and they swung open to reveal a woman and her maids – a goddess, I think. And that was the last I saw of any of them.’
‘You mean you ran away,’ Eurybates said.
‘Of course not! I waited, but when the doors opened again – it was the strangest thing – out came a herd of pigs! She drove them into a sty at the side of the house, threw them some food and went back inside. I didn’t see anything else after that, not a sign of our own men. And I stayed behind that tree a long time, though the thought of those lions and wolves terrified me.’
‘Here,’ Odysseus said, pouring him a cup of wine. ‘You did your best, Eurylochus, but now you must be brave once more. Omeros, pass me my sword and bow.’
‘Once more? What do you mean once more?’
‘I’m going to the house and you’re coming with me to show the way.’
‘With you?’ Eurylochus dropped the cup in the sand and threw himself at Odysseus’s feet, wrapping his arms about his legs in supplication. ‘Please, no,’ he sobbed. ‘I’ve had enough. Can’t you see I’ve had enough? And you’ll not escape their fate. Whatever happened to the rest of them will happen to you – you’ll not bring any of them back again. We should leave this place at once and sail on –’
‘Go if you must,’ Selagos said, peeling Eurylochus’s arms from around Odysseus’s legs, ‘but leave Eurylochus here. He’ll be no good to you anyway.’
