Finding Ithaka

by Anna Harvey

  In the uncomfortable silence, his words were starting to carry weight as Priam watched him intensely with those pale grey eyes. Alexandros also must have sensed it too, for he burst out shouting “No, father, don’t listen.” He would have sprung on Menelaos had not brotherly hands held him back. “You cannot let Helen go,” the voice bawled, the display of passion uncomfortable to witness. “Remember your vow to us, when I first brought her to Troy. You said that she would always be welcomed as my wife and protected within these walls. Father, I urge you, stay true to your words. Don’t let her be sent away from this city. Our city is strong and well protected. We can withstand and hold out against any Greek attack.”

  “Silence, my son. Silence I say. I have heard enough from all sides.” A sternness entered Priam’s voice this time, warning those present to take heed. Alexandros had ceased struggling and a hush descended on the assembled group as Priam pondered the matter, his fingers drawn up to his lips. In that moment, the fate of his city and his people rested in his hands, that of the living and of those yet to be born. At last, he broke the silence, fixing his gaze unfalteringly upon Menelaos.

  “I do not approve of what my son has done. To break the rules of xenia and take another man’s wife is wrong. For this defies the laws of the gods. Yet Alexandros speaks the truth that when Helen entered this city, I vowed to honour, treat and protect her like my own daughter.” Priam paused and Odysseus felt his body brace at the judgement about to be passed.

  “Helen herself came here of her own free will and her place is here in Troy as is that of any child that may be produced from her union with Alexandros, should the gods wish this.” Priam raised his head, his shoulders squared to them. “I cannot grant your request but I am prepared to provide ample recompense that would satisfy you and recompense my son’s transgression many times over. We are a wealthy city and can offer you plenty in terms of precious metals and gold.”

  He felt dismay fill his heart at Priam’s words. He knew that Menelaos, who sat beside him with hunched shoulders and burning cheeks, could be won over. For the man keenly reproached himself for the troubles his failed marriage had heaped upon his fellow Greek warriors. But instinctively Odysseus knew this proposal would never be acceptable to their great Anax, King Agamemnon, as appeasement for the wounded honour of the house of Atreus. The sacrifice of Iphigeneia had put paid to any prospect of compromise.

  Odysseus’ thoughts were interrupted by Hekabe, perhaps observing the shadow that weighed down on him and Menelaos’ deafening silence. There was an astuteness in her countenance and perhaps like him, the Trojan queen grasped the heavy price. Her words rang out in pure Greek across the hall, each one enunciated in a northern Thracian accent.

  “Gentlemen, I am a Greek by birth from the city of Lokris. It was as a girl I first came here to Troy to serve as a priestess in the temple of Athene before my marriage to my lord Priam. Our peoples, those of the Greeks and those of the Trojans, have always been close and our fates intertwined. I know my husband’s words may not entirely please you or win you over completely, but I urge you to consider these matters. I am sorry for your loss Menelaos and my husband can more than recompense you with wealth and goods so that through your kleos you may find a fitting bride. One who you will be satisfied with and perhaps in the fullness of time will bear you children. With my husband’s wealth, you will not lack noble families offering their daughters in wedlock to you. I beg you to consider this offer and take it to your brother the Anax, great Agamemnon. Our peoples need to be at peace once more and avert a terrible war.”

  “I thank you for those words, Queen Hekabe,” Odysseus replied, nodding in acknowledgement. The words were kindly meant but brought no relief to Menelaos who slumped further into silent humiliation. The man was brittle and fragile, like a clay pot that might smash into a hundred shards. “We will lay the terms of your peace before Agamemnon and the other Greek leaders to weigh up.”

  “May I see my wife before we go?” Menelaos suddenly asked, raising his head, the sound of his voice catching them by surprise. “I wish to hear from Helen’s own lips that this is her true wish to remain with this man in Troy.”

  “I’m sorry Menelaos,” Priam’s voice was conciliatory and kind, “but she refuses to speak with you.”

  “Perhaps I can go if that is acceptable?” Odysseus said, the thought appealing to him. He wished to ensure this was not some trick meant to deceive. “I am her kinsman through marriage to Penelope, her cousin.”

  Priam turned to his counsellor and the two men spoke in hushed urgent whispers. “That will be possible due to your claims of kinship,” the king finally replied, returning once more to his mild disposition. “Antenor will take you Odysseus to his apartment, where you can see Helen but Menelaos must remain here. My eldest son Hector will entertain him.” The two Greek warriors exchanged glances and Odysseus bowed assent to answer for them both.

  He was taken to a well-proportioned apartment, where the walls were richly furnished with elaborate tapestries to insulate the room and keep the winter chill out. If there was a war, he thought ruefully, the Trojans would not be shivering in their tents. Antenor was a pleasing host of uncommon refinement and in normal circumstances he Odysseus would have appreciated his company. The sound of light footsteps on the passage steps alerted the two men to the approach of another and then the door creaked open. Helen entered, her breathtaking beauty illuminating the room. Her face was uncovered, and she wore her hair down in ringlets, a fitted girdle emphasising her slim waist and full breasts. It was clear why this woman was so coveted by the warrior men and why her fame surpassed the kingdoms of Achaia.

  “Odysseus, my kinsman, you are here.” She reached out to clasp his hand and he accepted her embrace his body stiffening. “How is Penelope your wife, my dearest cousin?”

  “Very well, madam, when I left her with our new-born son.”

  “She must miss you very much and long for your return.”

  He tried to summon his patience and respond mildly rather than with recrimination. “Indeed so and we both wish heartily that I may return back home as soon as the gods allow it.”

  “Come let us sit.” He led her to a bench, where beakers had been poured by his convivial host. He waited for her to take a sip of the wine and then began. “Dearest Helen, I regret we meet under these strained circumstances and this is not easy for both of us.” She was looking at him directly and her exposed ravishing beauty unsettled him. “I come as a deputation to Troy on behalf of Agamemnon and the Greeks. Menelaos is in the city anxious for your return, but King Priam says you are here of your own volition. Does he speak the truth?”

  “I’m sorry Odysseus …“ She broke off, her voice faltering as she averted her gaze and her face blushed from shame.

  “Helen, I did not come to condemn you but tell me is this truly what you choose? To stay here with this man in Troy rather than return to Sparta. I must ascertain with my own ears that this is indeed your true wishes?”

  Helen looked down at her long slender fingers, letting out a deep regretful sigh. “That is my deepest desire, Odysseus. I want and need to be with Alexandros.” Tears sprung into her eyes, beneath the long silky eye lashes, even then it enhanced her beauty. “I know that this is madness and perhaps the goddess of love herself, Aphrodite, has put this feeling in my heart and taken away my senses. But I love Alexandros and have given myself to him. No longer can I bear to be parted from him.”

  Odysseus studied her demeanour and thought of some infatuated love-struck youth, naive in the ways of the world. He tried again still patiently but from a different tack. “You know that Agamemnon has mustered a Greek army to take you back by force if necessary. He is a man not to be trifled with and can be most determined. It may not end well for the people here in the city and those who would love and protect you. Are you sure you want to risk taking this path and stay with this man and these alien people?”

  The tears were falling freely from her eyes, as she ra
ised her head towards him. “I love Alexandros,” she cried, sobs racking her body. “Forgive me my dearest Odysseus.” He beheld that luminous face demanding his sympathy, trying to fathom the promptings of her heart, but realising further talk was pointless. Helen was consumed by this passion and beyond reason.

  As Odysseus and Menelaos crossed the wide open plain back towards the battle lines of the Greek troops, a grim silence hung over the two men and Odysseus found himself lost in his thoughts. The mission had been a failure and the Trojans were unwilling to surrender Helen without a violent struggle. It was worthy of Priam that he chose to stay loyal to his son and his ill-advised choice of bedfellow. Always he had respected Helen, his kinswoman, though her beauty marked her out for competition between the male warriors. But love or no love, the lovers’ recklessness to allow this potential blood-letting was hard to stomach. He could almost taste the bitter bile in his mouth. For it seemed a madness that the gods had instilled into these two people conducting their lusty affair. Could this love-making be worth the slaughter of others, leaving their lives early to descend down into Hades? Perhaps it was these thoughts that had influenced Odysseus’ own decisions in the future yet to come. That was still far away. But with a heart heavy and foreboding, he returned to the Greek camp to break the news to Agamemnon, knowing that the course towards war had been set.

  Chapter 4

  Goatherds and Panegyri

  Thea leaned over the boat rail, as she took in the scene around her. The landmarks were familiar: the old sea mill, now desolate and deserted, silhouetted against the pine-wooded hillside; then the lighthouse with its white rounded portico jutting out into the straits and finally the stretch of open water. As the ferry’s path cut swathes through the water, the crossing was relatively smooth for the time of year and already the sun’s rays had dispelled the morning chill. Looking back across the lagoon, Thea saw the island’s mountainous spine stretching up to Mount Oenos and felt the knot coiled inside her unwind. It caught her by surprise how much she had missed the island with its natural beauty.

  “Have you recovered from last night?” Her body jolted startled by the sound of the voice. It was the same enquiry that Mark had asked as Thea had pulled up her chair at the breakfast table. No doubt Mark was concerned about Thea putting herself under too much pressure so soon after the marriage break-up. Masking the truth, she had reassured Mark fixing a smile to her face. He had not pressed the matter as Richard’s booming voice announced his entrance into the breakfast room.

  “Much better,” she said, glancing across at Rob, brushing off the concern. “You were right, it probably was low blood sugar from skipping lunch.” She saw a quizzical look cross Rob’s face, aware that the dark shadows under her eyes betrayed her disturbed night’s sleep. Perhaps the return to the island had unsettled her: for the old dream had struck, where she was chasing a man’s shadow through dense woodland, always one step ahead and always just out of reach. Only with the arrival of early dawn, had she finally drifted into sleep.

  “The biscuits usually do the trick.”

  “Your help was very timely,” Thea conceded, noticing Rob leaning against the rail, apparently taking in the view and in no hurry to leave her side. He was taking deep breaths of the pure air as if absorbing the very fabric of the island.

  He glanced at her quickly. “Forgive me, I hope I’m not intruding. You did seem lost in your thoughts.”

  “No, not at all,” Thea replied lightly, rallying herself and forcing herself to make the effort. “I was just enjoying the view.” Not for the first time, she wondered whether her decision to return to the island was a mistake. In those long winter months she had wrapped herself in solitude, avoiding the sympathetic looks and enquiries, comforting herself alone in the deafening silence of the London flat as the empty days stretched out in front. Feeling now the soothing spring sunlight, she banished the anxious and fearful memories.

  “We’ve worked out an itinerary for today,” Rob continued. Instantly her attention was grabbed and she felt again the mounting excitement. The beach had been suggested and though ambitious for the time of year, Thea had come prepared. “We’ve managed to incorporate your Potso Kaliki as well as visiting some interesting geology around the lighthouse area. That should give us plenty of time to be back for the big event tonight,” he said, a hint of irony in his voice.

  “You mean Porto Katsiki?” Thea corrected him, noting though he was a renowned specialist, languages were clearly not Rob’s strength.

  “Alistair and Elizabeth were keen to drive close to the field survey site to gain a sense of the local geography.” This was welcome news as at least the day would not be entirely wasted and divert them away from the main thrust of their work.

  Rob had turned his face towards Thea as if studying her intensely, the daylight emphasising his pitted skin and playing on the lively intelligent eyes. The beard had been neatly trimmed and the blonde-copper hair swept back. He wore a casual grey sweatshirt, which only thinly disguised his muscular arms and strong upper torso. “Do you want to ride with us? There’s a spare seat in the front. Sophie and Belinda are riding in the back with Matthew, my assistant.”

  Thea glanced behind Rob where the group had spread out across the bright orange plastic chairs of the open air deck. Belinda was holding court, her long blonde tresses falling over her face whipped by the wind. Thea’s eyes flicked over the male students, all fresh-faced, whose names of Jamie, Daniel and Toby oozed confidence or prowess on the sports field. As usual Elizabeth sat clamped to her husband’s side like a conjoined twin. Finally Thea’s eyes alighted upon the young woman who had caught her attention only the previous night and to whom she could now attach the name Sophie.

  “Thanks for the offer. That would be great,” she replied, noticing that the cream apartment blocks and houses of the provincial town were quickly coming into view, signalling the end of the ferry crossing.

  “I think we’d better get down to the car,” said Rob catching her glance.

  Shortly afterwards, Thea found herself seated in the car front seat, watching as the ramp of the ferry was lowered with a clanking and juddering of heavy metal. As engines revved and people pressed forward, there was a surge of activity as the vessel expelled its human and metal cargo. Undaunted and without hesitation, Rob steered the vehicle through the chaotic commotion, closely tailing the car in front as if roped by an invisible umbilical cord, until they emerged into the quietness of the sleepy provincial town.

  It was early afternoon, when they finally arrived at Porto Katsiki. Their journey had taken them to the western extremity, where a remote lighthouse overhung the precipitous cliffs. A young pup had bounded out to greet them, its panting tongue lolling side-wards, revelling in the arrival of potential playmates. Belinda and Jamie took turns to throw brushwood for the hound to retrieve as Rob explained in an animated voice the deceptiveness of the place, where the cliffs plummeted into the depths of the Mediterranean Sea.

  The road had then taken them north through a labyrinth of country lanes, skirting an old monastery, the iron gates padlocked, and a clutch of small villages. All day they had passed very little traffic and even fewer people, despite the signs of well-tended fields. So it was unsurprising when they pulled up onto the strand at Porto Katsiki to find the place deserted.

  The fragrance-laden air filled Thea’s nostrils, as she stepped out of the car. She glanced around noting the epithet Porto seemed rather misplaced as the port consisted of a few fishing boats bobbing in the harbour and a cluster of shuttered houses. Despite the air of neglect and the overgrown gardens, there was a profusion of flowering plants and trees weighed down with fruit blossom. A mounting excitement gripped her when Sophie interrupted her thoughts.

  “This place is lovely! Do you mind me asking why you were so keen to come here?” Thea glanced at the younger woman noting the eagerness in her voice. Her openness tempered with inexperience reminded Thea of her own younger self.

  “I wanted
to see this place for myself,” Thea replied, suddenly feeling overdressed and clammy in her long sleeved tunic in the full sun. She reached for her wide-brimmed hat to cool herself as beads of sweat pricked her skin. “The Odyssey describes a place where Odysseus first sets foot on Ithaka, when he finally arrives home from the Trojan wars. The place is called Phorkys or old man of the sea and was thought to refer to the monk seals, which breed off this northern coast.”

  “I’ve never heard of seals in Greece.”

  “I’m not surprised. They’re shy creatures so raise their young in underwater sea-caves beyond human reach.”

  “That’s such a shame!” the younger woman exclaimed “they’ve been driven to the edges of their natural habitat. So do you think this place matches that description?” The group had gathered and were observing the conversation with attentive eyes and listening ears.

  “See there,” said Thea, pointing out to sea where the two headlands jutted out to create the long shallow bay. “Homer describes exactly such a sheltered bay, where it was possible to leave boats untethered even in a winter storm.”

  “The bay is very different from the main body of the island we drove through this morning,” Sophie picked up, her head gazing round.