Finding Ithaka

by Anna Harvey

  “Why are you telling me this, father?” asked Telemachos, perplexed, gazing up at his father. ”I don’t understand.”

  “That too was a terrible time, son. Our house was in disarray when the natural order of things had been overturned and broken down. Guests in this very palace acted as masters, causing disorder, sleeping with the female servants and insulting you and your mother. Here in my own palace, I was dishonoured as a beggar and assaulted by those with no regard for the normal rules of hospitality.” At the memory, he clenched his jaw and irritation flashed through his mind. “Their arrogant and overbearing behaviour spread like a pox passed from man to man, corrupting and despoiling the normal bonds that hold men together and the natural order of the Cosmos. Thus those who previously knew their place, either as nobles or humble workers grew emboldened, overstepping their rank, believing they were all kings together.”

  Telemachos momentarily shuddered in front of him, recalling that terrible spectacle of the bloodletting. When the slaughter had begun in the great megaron, there had been assembled the highest born young men drawn from across the kingdom seeking to seize his father’s authority. One hundred and eight men in all, wedding suitors, greedy for power and the wealth it bestowed: the lands, the herds of goats and sheep, the hard-won precious metals piled in the treasure room and control of the well-founded palace itself. With the arrogance of young nobodies, they had sought to replace their king even in the marriage chamber without kleos or merit.

  “We stood together then, Telemachos,” he lifted his chin, as he looked his son full in the face. “Shoulder to shoulder. The two of us together with the loyal and trusted Eumaios, then only a lowly herdsman. With our swords and our weapons, we cut them down each and every last man.”

  “And the faithless servants too,” added Telemachos, remembering his part also in the killing. The palace hall had been covered in blood. Even the intense cleaning and scrubbing of the servants and the purifying pots of sulphur could not eliminate the stain for years. The bodies had been piled high here in the yard, awaiting to be claimed by their kinsmen to be given ceremonial and proper funerary rites.

  Remembering the horror of the scene, Odysseus’ eyes inadvertently fell on that part of the yard, as if seeing once more where the earth had been pitted with dried blood. “The suffering was terrible, son, and many families within the kingdom grieved for their young men, departed sons or lost brothers taken early to Hades.”

  “Do you now doubt father whether it was right?” asked Telemachos perplexed.

  In his darkest moments Odysseus had indeed questioned the slaughter. He grasped the pain and suffering it had caused. When he had fought at Troy, it had all been so simple and straight forward. To follow the warrior code at any cost to seek kleos and individual heroic glory of the hero. Now he was less convinced. He wondered whether his warrior’s heart had softened under Kirke’s influence like wax in the flame’s heat.

  He drew himself upright, his back rigid like forged metal. “No it had to be done. Not from hate or rage of the Furies who exact vengeance and punish wrong-doers. But it was accepted that this violation and pollution of the natural order had to be stopped. For else we would all suffer retribution from the gods and Zeus himself, the arbitrator of justice.” For had the price not been paid and what was necessary done, he knew that Zeus’ vengeance would be visited on the next blameless generation or the next, until full recompense had been made. For that would be the price for disrupting the balance of the Cosmos created by the gods. “There was a high blood-price paid,” he said slowly, the words almost sticking in his throat, “to restore the kingdom and to return things as they should be but that was the necessary path.”

  “I still do not understand why you speak of these things now father,” said Telemachos unable to read his expression. “That grievous time is in the past and now Peace encircles the kingdom.”

  “That is indeed true and there is a reason why I speak of such matters,” he said gathering his thoughts closer together. “It is now twenty years since those dreadful events. I have lived for sixty years and am now reaching a ripe old age. I have watched you these many years and taught you everything I know about kingship. ” Odysseus paused, his eyes now moist with tears. The guilt still pained him like a knife that he had not been there during his son’s childhood. He took some comfort that they had been inseparable since. “Now you have reached the same age as when I returned to these shores, twenty seasons ago, I believe the time has come to pass onto you the kingship of Ithaka. The gods give me no doubt that you are ready to shoulder that responsibility and will rule wisely and justly.”” He could see the effect of his words. Telemachos was vigorously shaking his head.

  “But father, you are still …” But Odysseus put out a hand to stop him speaking, not allowing the younger man to finish his speech. His mind had already anticipated all the arguments and objections.

  “Telemachos, I know what you will say. That I am not yet descended into Hades, the land of the dead souls. That I have more years to live. All this may be true. But Ithaka needs new vigour and strength to govern and protect it, especially in these troubling times. Not that of a weakening man.” He looked up at his son, feeling sentiment well in his throat and spoke more soothingly. “This was always on my mind when I battled my way back here from Troy and endured all the misfortunes along that cursed home journey. That one day you would succeed and be king of this island kingdom. My task is done.” He felt calm and clear of purpose. “The gods have blessed me that I live to see that day. That day I believe has now come and is my most heartfelt desire.” He reached for his son’s hand and held it against his chest, above his beating heart. “Do you agree, Telemachos, and consent to my wishes?”

  The man glanced up, as if reading his thoughts and then he motioned his head in agreement. “If this is what you desire.”

  “Good, then at the feast today, when the people are assembled, I will present you to the gathered people as their new king and leader. We will speak no further of this until then. And how are those two boys of yours, my grandsons?” Already the elder was showing promising signs that he would make a fine warrior. The younger one had a different disposition, more given to handling a lyre than a mighty sword. But he had astute observation and a quick turn of words, like his grandfather.

  “They are excited by the prospect of the feast.”

  “It won’t be long before we will need to find them brides,” Odysseus said knowingly, feeling pride stirring in his chest. “But come then, let us go and make our preparations to join the celebration. There is still much to do.” He started to rise to his feet. While sitting, his back had stiffened and the sinews tightened on his limbs. No longer was he so quick in movement. He could see that Telemachos still delayed. He knew the bonds of father and son kinship ran deep between them overcoming every obstacle.

  Telemachos turned his face upwards to him, the emotion clear on his rugged bronze face. “Father, though you suffer the weakness of old age, may the gods keep you here yet with your people prospering around you.”

  “Of course, my dear son,” he responded, inwardly perplexed. Strange those were the very words spoken by the old seer all those years ago. Again the gods brought Kirke into his mind and that disquieting feeling. Now Odysseus had remembered, he could not seem to shake off the past as if some god was tormenting him. At that very moment, the outline of a winged creature swooped down low, a tail feather slowly weaving its way to the ground. It perched high on the roof-tiled gable of the palace, where no stone could reach it. There was no mistaking the white owl.

  Chapter 20

  Rejection

  The overnight case lay on the bed, inside a pile of clothes neatly folded. Thea gave the contents a final check before decisively zipping the cover. The metal teeth complained as they snapped shut.

  “So you’re going away, kyria?” Electra enquired, her attention falling on the piece of luggage, as Thea handed over her room key.

  “That’s
right. For the weekend.”

  “Anywhere nice?” The inquisitive smile invited a confidence.

  “Just seeing an old friend,” Thea answered casually, feeling her ears beginning to burn and a tightness in her throat. She liked Electra and her straightforward nature, but any suspicion or knowledge of her plans was dangerous and explosive if it became common knowledge.

  “Do you want me to call you a cab,” Electra called out after her.

  “Thanks but that really isn’t necessary,” Thea replied lamely, feeling the heat spreading out across her face, as she hastily dragged her bag out of the hotel lobby.

  The small square was just around the corner from the hotel. It was quiet and deserted when Thea arrived. It had been Dimitri who had suggested this meeting spot, seeking discretion. She took a seat on the wooden bench, in the shadow of a flowering oleander, overlooking a modest patch of coarse grass and cultivated lavender. Thea checked her watch and waited, watching the empty street. Just opposite was a marble column, the whiteness almost luminescent and elaborately carved. Thea recognised the winged figure of the god Hermes, the messenger of the gods, standing in repose.

  Just then a figure came into view, walking with the familiar distinctive stride. After seeing so little of him since the Easter barbecue, it was an unfortunate coincidence Rob should turn up right at this same moment.

  “Hello Thea.” Rob greeted her affably with a wide grin. “What are you doing here? Are you going somewhere?” he asked with lively interest, immediately taking in the packed suitcase. His clothing was lighter in style, which blended in with the local Greek dress code and the colour accentuated the blueness of his eyes. Before she could reply, the deep guttural sound of a sports car engine interrupted, as Dimitri pulled up in his racing-green car.

  He quickly got out of the car and came over to them, almost sprinting. “Hello, Dr Hughes”, Dimitri said acknowledging Rob’s presence. “Are you ready to go Thea,” he asked, checking his watch, clearly keen to leave.

  “I didn’t realise that you two were going away together?” Rob commented, looking at Thea questioningly.

  “Yes, Dr Sefton has kindly agreed to accompany me to an event over the weekend,” Dimitri smoothly replied on Thea’s behalf before she had a chance to speak. “So we’re travelling together.” He continued without pausing, “Thank you for kindly letting us visit your lab the other week. You know that the Foundation, including myself, are very impressed with your work and the results you are producing. We may have to look into some extra financial reward for your efforts.” The words were meant to be flattering but had the opposite intended effect. There was a distinct reddening of Rob’s face and a look of pure hatred. Clearly Rob had no time for Dimitri, even as a financial benefactor.

  “I’m not around this weekend Rob but I’ll be back first thing on Monday morning,” Thea said stepping in to punctuate the tension. “Are you still on for the walking trip next week? I’ll finalise the details with Mark once I return.”

  “No, you go on with your weekend, Thea. I can make the arrangements.” The colour of Rob’s face was still flushed but the tone was conciliatory.

  “Can I drop you off anywhere?” Dimitri asked, unperturbed by his effect on the other man.

  “No, no,” Rob replied abruptly, putting out his hand as if warding off an evil spirit. “I can make my own way,” he said still glowering at Dimitri, rejecting the offer out of hand.

  “That man is a brilliant at his work, but quite strange at times,” said Dimitri good-naturedly as they pulled away from the kerb. Rob was still watching them but with a peculiar wistful expression on his face, his eyes tracking the moving vehicle. As they drove through the town suburbs, the look stayed with Thea unsettling her thoughts and she could feel the old doubts resurfacing. They had now left the town behind them and were quickly speeding along the airport road, eating up the distance. They were approaching the turning for the airport itself, when Thea suddenly called out.

  “Pull over! We need to talk.”

  “What now? When we are so close to the airport?” Nonetheless Dimitri complied with the request, pulling the car up to a sudden stop, the tyres screeching on the tarmac.

  “This will only take a few minutes,” Thea said soothingly. “There’s a small taverna over there, let’s go in and get some coffee.”

  There was a flush of irritation on his dark handsome face, but Dimitri courteously helped Thea out of the car. An awkward silence followed, after their order for coffee was taken. Thea noticed Dimitri glancing round impatiently, tapping the floor with his foot and shifting in his chair. She waited until the coffees were brought by a young boy, no more than twelve years, who slowly set the cups down his hands trembling, trying not to spill a single drop, until they were finally left alone.

  “So what’s so urgent that couldn’t wait?” Dimitri began. “Surely we’ve the whole weekend to talk.”

  “Yes, we do,” Thea replied, her voice steady. “But I need to ask you something.”

  “So ask away?” Dimitri said, a look of good-humour playing on his face, as he took a mouthful of coffee. “What do you need to know so urgently?”

  Bracing herself, Thea took a deep inward breath and asked the question. “How was it decided that the survey should be based in Kalodia, your family’s village?”

  Dimitri laughed out loud, throwing back his head to reveal a row of perfect formed teeth. “Is that all? For a moment I thought it was something more serious. That you’d changed your mind.” She noticed the long eyelashes and the smooth shaved skin, as Dimitri turned towards her his deep pooled eyes. “Of course Kalodia is my family village and I can’t deny that. Everyone on the island knows that. I suggested it to Richard and he readily agreed. I didn’t think it was a problem.” He beamed reassuringly at her and reached out to stroke her hand, but Thea drew back.

  “But Richard is under your spell. I don’t understand how but you seem to have this influence over him,” Thea said struggling to find the right words. “Do you not see that? He will do whatever you ask him.”

  “Yes, Richard has been very accommodating,” Dimitri readily agreed, looking up over his coffee cup, as he took another sip. “But if you think that Kalodia is not the right location, then we can move the project next year to the site of your choosing. Where ever you want, you decide.” He lifted his eyes to her now smiling, seducing her with his words and easy charm.

  But the nagging doubt and unease would not abate. Looking at Dimitri across from her, this time Thea summoned up all her strength and determination.

  “I can’t do this Dimitri,” Thea finally said, shaking her head. “It doesn’t feel right.”

  Dimitri gasped banging his coffee cup down onto its saucer, so the contents spilt over. “What do you mean Thea, you can’t do this,” he demanded, his voice loaded with exasperation. “What’s the problem? You’re an adult, I’m an adult. We no longer have to care about everyone else, we can do what we please. Next year choose where you want to do the survey. Lead the project yourself if that’s what you want. Just as long as we’re together.”

  Thea hesitated and took a deep breath, realising her next words might only infuriate him. “But there isn’t just us. You have a family, a wife and two children. We have to think of the hurt and pain we might cause others.”

  “Thea, why are you doing this?” Dimitri was regarding her steadily through deep olive-coloured eyes, the irises clear and glassy. “We love each other. We’ve done so for years. That’s all that matters. You know this is the truth. I can give you whatever you want. Take you wherever you want to go. Set you up in your own place, so we can be close. I’m one of the wealthiest men in Greece. We’ll have a wonderful life together. How can that be a problem?”

  Briefly an image came to her of the two of them growing old together, snuggled beneath a thick blanket, watching the sunset over a snow-capped mountain. For a moment, Thea’s resolve almost wavered before she banished the notion.

  “I’m sorry Dimit
ri, but no,” Thea said firmly, shaking her head.

  “You can’t mean that. Are you stupid?” A flash of anger now lit up Dimitri’s fine-featured face. “Why would you throw away this chance, when we can be together?”

  And then it came out, from nowhere, catching even Thea by surprise. “Because you abandoned me! You left me pregnant!”

  For a moment, Dimitri sat visibly shocked, his mouth dropped like a fish gulping for oxygen. “What are you saying?” he demanded, as the questions came urgent and pressing. ”There was a child? Where is it now?” A nervous look passed over his face as if he was trying to grasp the implications of this revelation: the thought of having a grown-up child, the financial repercussions or the possible disruption to a life so carefully crafted.

  “I miscarried at three months,” Thea added, her words barely audible. “I lost the baby here on the island, twenty years ago.“

  “Oh my god!” Dimitri exclaimed. “No one told me. Who else knows?” He now glanced anxiously around the taverna, suddenly taken by paranoia that their conversation might be overheard.

  “No one,” Thea reassured him, “only Eleni who nursed me through it. But that’s the reason I can’t do this. Our relationship is built on a destructive love. And if it is discovered, it will only cause hurt and suffering to others.”

  “But we could start over. I love you.” Desperately Dimitri scanned her face, searching for any glimmer of feeling but Thea refused meet his eye.

  “Dimitri, this isn’t love,” Thea replied finally, at last raising her face to him. “You’re mistaken. Love is a force for good, not a destructive self-centred act. How can this situation you propose be love? I’m not going to be your dirty little secret, who Stelios or some other hanger-on knows about. A mistress who you shut away. Do you think I’m still that naive girl of nineteen?” She paused, meeting his eye directly. “We owe it to the child we lost to act honourably.”