Odysseus: The Return

19

The lamps dangling from the columns and pillars were lit, and the opaque, reddish light they cast danced on the weapons hanging on the walls. They were all still there: the spears, shields, helmets, greaves, in precisely the same place I’d left them, although their gleam had long been dimmed by dust and smoke. My fingers brushed the wooden swords that Damastes had wielded when he was teaching me the art of combat. . Every object, every scratch on the wall, every beam on the ceiling reminded me of the past I had never forgotten. Now, in that silence and that solitude, the pieces seemed to come alive, hailing from a remote place in my heart, recalling the nights and days, months and years of a time that had been happy for me. I hadn’t noticed them before, assaulted by the uproar, the jeers, the insults and the bullying. Now the memories surged over me like the waves of a troubled sea.

I suddenly saw Telemachus appear at the end of the great hall, now deserted. Some maidservants came through another door with buckets and sponges, and began to clean up and to gather the leftovers. Mélantho was with them but she merely watched the others as they worked, smug in her position of privilege. She noticed me of course and began to insult me again: ‘What? Still here, you leech? What are you still doing in the palace at this time of night? Weren’t you listening when I told you to get lost?’

I swelled with rage and stared back at her. ‘You wouldn’t treat me with such impudence if your master were here. Beware! Things may change, and much sooner than you think!’ For a moment she seemed flustered by my words. She gave me a startled look, as if an unsettling thought had just crossed her mind. How could there still be someone, after twenty years, who so confidently spoke of the king who had surely died in some distant land? Could that beggar really know something?

She left in a huff and the other servants presently left the hall as well. Perhaps they knew that the queen would soon be descending from her room to meet with the wandering guest to whom her son had given permission to ask for alms from the tables of the princes. Telemachus drew close. ‘Father,’ he whispered, ‘my mother the queen is about to come downstairs. Mai has given instructions to put the seat she favours for receiving guests near the hearth. It’s the best one in the house, inset with silver and ivory.’

‘This will be the most difficult test for me,’ I replied. ‘But listen, you must do as I say. Tonight, take down all the weapons hanging from the walls of the hall and close them up in the armoury. Nothing must remain.’

‘But don’t you think that will arouse the princes’ suspicions? They’ve always been accustomed to seeing them where they are.’

‘You’ll say you had to turn them over to the armourer for inspection and a cleaning. They’ve all turned black from the smoke of the hearth. Do you own a suit of armour?’

‘I do, Father. Of course I do, it’s in the armoury. King Laertes your father gave it to me for my twentieth birthday. I’ll do as you ask.’

‘This will be your first blood, won’t it, pai?’

He bowed his head: ‘Yes.’

‘You’ll get used to it, as I did in my time. It’s a sad necessity. This is what distinguishes a king from a murderer: he kills only when all the other paths have been precluded. Here comes your mother. I must go to her.’

Penelope had taken her seat and had put her feet up on a stool inset with the same precious decorations. I got a knot in my throat at the sight of her and my heart started beating faster with every step I took. Would I be able to take this? Would I be able to hold back my tears, would the expression on my face betray me?

I was close to her now, but I stopped at the line of shadow, where the reflection of the flames from the hearth gave way to the darkness of night. Her voice rang out in the dark. A girl’s voice. If I had closed my eyes, I would have seen her in an olive garden gathering flowers in faraway Sparta. What I wanted to say was: ‘Sing, sing for me, my love, like when we were young!’ But instead I had to remain completely impassive, hiding my feelings and my desires.

‘Come closer, foreign guest. You are welcome here.’ Now she spoke as a queen, accustomed to being obeyed.

‘I thank you, wanaxa, but I’m in no condition to introduce myself to your presence. I’m dirty and tattered.’

‘I don’t judge a man by his clothing,’ she replied. ‘I know well that every mortal is subject to the whims of destiny. Come closer. I want to talk to you.’

‘I beg of you, my queen, I am ashamed of the way I look and I would not feel at ease in front of such radiant beauty.’

Penelope sighed and bent her head: ‘My face has not been radiant for a long time, foreign guest. Too many tears have poured from these eyes.’

For me her beauty was unchanged. The veil of melancholy made it even more intense and heartbreaking. I watched as the light from the fire caressed her cheeks and shone in her black, black eyes.

I wanted to tell her that from the moment I’d left Ithaca I had always thought of her intensely every time I saw the moon rising from the sea, because I was certain that she would be doing the same thing, at the same time, and that our souls would touch. But I had to hide my thoughts and my face. ‘I know the reason for your tears, my queen. Your fame is well known in every land. You suffer because your husband, the glorious son of Laertes, has never returned from the war, but I can tell you that your troubles are ending. Odysseus will return, and soon. If he’s not already here.’

Penelope scrutinized my face in the darkness. ‘What are you saying, foreign guest? You don’t even know my Odysseus. Are you one of the scores of wayfarers who hope to earn my hospitality by telling me lies?’

‘No. I’m telling you the truth. I have seen Odysseus. If I saw him again I would recognize him.’

‘You’ve seen him, or so you say. How did you recognize him?’ Her eyes sought mine in the darkness.

‘I know him because I first saw him in Crete as he was going to war. The wind had swept him off his course as he was doubling Cape Malea.’

‘What did he look like then?’ she insisted.

A hoarse wind blew outside and a dog whimpered in the courtyard and scratched his nails against the door. Argus? Where are you, Argus? A chill coursed under my worn cloak. The flames flickered in the hearth.

‘That was a very long time ago, it’s not easy to remember. A well-built man, I would say, with bright eyes that lit up when he smiled.’ Penelope paled. A light sweat broke out on her cheeks. ‘Wait, now I remember, he was wearing a red cloak with a beautiful gold clasp. It was in the shape of a hunting dog with a deer in its clutches. It was so finely crafted that you could see the deer was trying to get away. A jewel truly fit for a king.’

Penelope’s expression had changed. I could see that my words had deeply shaken her, confused her. ‘I wove that cloak for him,’ she said, ‘and the pin was a gift from me as well.’ I remembered that moment so vividly it felt as though I was there again. My heart bursting with the pain of leaving her, little Telemachus babbling in her arms. Only Argus could understand him! The ship pulling away from the shore, pulling away from everything I loved. . the ship that would never make its way back.

‘But how can you possibly remember such a tiny thing? Who are you?’ she demanded.

She had drawn closer and for a moment I was close to breaking down. I breathed in her fragrance, saw the tears glittering in her eyes. I felt the air vibrate with the beat of her heart. Had she recognized me?

‘I am Aithon of Crete,’ I said. ‘I am the brother of wanax Idomeneus, the lord of Knossos and the Labyrinth. Ill luck has reduced me to this state.’

She seemed to accept this, but tears still ran down her cheeks. Her fingers of ivory curled around the armrests on her chair. She didn’t move for long instants, her head low, and I could barely hold back my own tears. I ached with desire for her, I longed to take her into my arms, but I had to resist, could not give in, had to stifle the swell of emotion rising in my heart. The time had not yet come. Not yet. . not yet. .

Penelope dried her tears and looked up at me again. ‘I’ll have your feet washed, and a bed set up for you in the atrium. . Euriclea!’

That name, her name, waves of memories, mai.. how much time had passed. . how many tears, how much homesickness. .

The voice of my queen again: ‘Euriclea, wash the guest’s feet and have a bed put in the atrium for him, so he may rest. He was a prince once, in Crete, the brother of mighty Idomeneus. Perhaps your master himself is in just as sorry a state. . a beggar, covered with rags, the brunt of derision and scorn, forced by hunger to humiliate himself. What you do for this man may be what someone else is doing for your lord.’

She stood up, shot me a last sorrowful glance and walked straight-backed up the stairs that led to her quarters. I bit my lip hard so I wouldn’t cry.

Euriclea. . stooped and white-haired, but still her. . with that sweet gaze and the rough voice that hid the tenderness of her heart. Mai. .

She filled a washbasin with hot water from an urn and put it on the ground in front of me. She was muttering under her breath: ‘Another trickster come to repeat idle tales to my sad little girl. . good-for-nothings, sluggards, all of you. .’

I was silent. I didn’t say a word in my defence. Her tongue was as sharp as her hands were gentle. They dissolved the weariness in my tormented feet and relaxed my strained muscles. The hot, steaming water reminded me again of my childhood. She was going on and on, and I watched her white head bobbing left and right to accompany her grumbling. My soul swelled with tenderness and it was all I could do not to smile, despite her scolding. Even though her gruff temperament prevented her from using kind words with me, I knew that she was thinking of her master, alone and forsaken, reduced to begging in some far-off land, and that she hoped that others would repay her labour by caring for him, as her mistress had suggested. She spilled out the dirty water and added some more from the urn to wash my legs as well. Then her hand came to a stop just above my knee, on the scar that the sharp tusk of a boar had left so many years ago. She dropped my foot abruptly. Water splashed everywhere and the basin overturned.

‘My child! My child, it’s you! It’s you, you’re back!’ she whispered in a tremulous voice, as big tears coursed down her wrinkled cheeks. I covered her mouth with my hand, nearly stopping her from breathing. I looked around to make sure that no one had seen.

‘Not a word, mai, or I’ll strangle you!’

My threat made her gasp. She could never have expected such words from me. But when I saw her dismay, I added softer words under my breath: ‘Mai, I love you as I love my own mother, and I am as happy to see you as you are to see me, but I’m here to wreak vengeance upon these arrogant suitors and I must stay hidden. I haven’t even revealed myself to Penelope, my beloved bride. You can’t imagine how hard that was for me. .’

Euriclea began scrubbing my feet and legs again to waylay suspicion. She knew well that many of the maidservants were conspiring with the suitors.

‘A great many men frequent this palace and they are well armed,’ I continued. ‘If they have the merest inkling of who I am in reality, they would not hesitate to murder me, and Telemachus as well. You do understand what I’m saying, don’t you?’

‘I do, my child, my lord and my king. Not a word will leave my mouth, not even if someone were to torture me. Can I bring you something to eat? There’s everything you could want in the kitchens.’

‘No, mai, I can’t eat, my stomach is tied in knots. But I’ll take a glass of wine if you’ll pour it for me.’

Euriclea hurried to get a clay cup, even though, I am sure, she would have preferred a silver one.

‘Let me prepare your bed for you now. In your own house, finally.’

‘No, mai, I don’t want you to do that. It might look odd. They’ll wonder: “Why is the queen treating this beggar so well? What’s wrong with a little straw under the portico?” No, just give me a blanket, that will be enough for me.’

‘I’ll do as you say, my son. Rest if you can.’ She raised her eyes to mine for a moment, and they were shiny with tears. ‘You can’t imagine how badly I want to hug you, child. I’ve thought of you every day, every day! I never doubted that you would return.’

She dried her tears with the sleeve of her tunic and walked away with her basin, only to return a short time later with an oxhide and a thick, warm sheepskin cover.

I went outside and laid them out one on top of the other in a sheltered corner of the portico facing the courtyard. The west wind carried a chill and the clear sky was teeming with stars. They throbbed in the great quiet vault and for a moment I felt like I was still on my ship, searching for the Herdsman or the Great Bear. The earth seemed to move in waves beneath me as if my vessel were rocking on the sleepless sea. I had spent such a long time on the water. I thought of distant Nausicaa. Perhaps her eyes were seeking out the stars, the same ones I was seeing. I thought of the helmless ship that had brought me home: was it back in its well-sheltered harbour or had the wrath of Poseidon turned it into a rock at the entrance to the port?

The moon rose over Mount Neritus and cast a pale glow over the courtyard. I saw Argus’ dead body: it had been thrown on the dungheap. I found a shovel, stuck it in my belt and slipped closer, after I’d made sure that there was no one looking my way. I gathered him up into my arms, left the courtyard and walked for a spell down the road that led into the city, until I came across a big holm oak that used to shelter flocks of sheep in its shade during the summers of my boyhood. There I dug a hole big enough to hold my friend, gave him one last pat and laid him inside. I filled in the hole and covered it first with stones, and then with leaves and dried grass so it wouldn’t be discovered.

‘I couldn’t give you the honour of a pyre, my friend,’ I whispered inside my heart. ‘I can’t be found out. But I’ve given you a worthy burial place. So when my time comes, I hope you’ll be waiting for me at the threshold of that foggy world. Farewell.’

I returned to my house and washed my arms and chest at the fountain and then stretched out on the oxhide and sheepskin, hoping to fall asleep. But the eyes of the night see many things that conspire to remain hidden. Two or three of the suitors, one after another, stole inside the palace to take their pleasure with the maidservants, who’d come to open the door for them. The sluts!

I tried to sleep nonetheless. ‘Be still, my heart,’ I said, ‘you’ve put up with much worse!’ But my heart was snarling in my chest like a rabid dog at the sight of such an insult. Later I watched them leave. The palace dogs didn’t bark either when they arrived or when they left; they were used to their comings and goings.

Silence finally fell over the palace, very late at night, but not for long. The wall on the far side of the portico was the one I myself had added twenty years earlier to build my wedding chambers. From the window came the soft but unmistakable sound of Penelope crying, and it cut me to the quick. I imagined her stretched out on the bed I had made for her, sobbing. What I had meant to be a haven of rest, dreams and enchantment for her was a place of torture instead.

I couldn’t bear the idea and I kept tossing and turning; I could not find peace. That was not the only thought that tormented me. I knew that in the final count it was me alone against scores of strong adversaries in the bloom of youth. Even if I managed to kill them all, how would I manage to escape the fury of their relatives and friends? I was struck with immense sadness to think that I’d already led all the youths who had followed me to Troy to their deaths. Their parents had entrusted them to me and I hadn’t brought a single one back. And here I was preparing to exterminate another generation, if I succeeded in my intent.

A chill.

Was it the wind or a mysterious presence? The voice of my goddess sounded in my heart: how could I doubt victory if I fought with a god at my side? Not even an entire army should worry me. In reality still today I ask myself whether I really had the right to slaughter them. I knew, surely, that all that blood spilled would come round to me. But I don’t think I ever had a choice. My goddess drove me to do it, but it was also my prerogative as a king, a husband, a father. I had slain so many men over so many years on the fields of Troy. Now I would do it again. I had conquered the greatest city in the world. Now, once again, I had entered in disguise and I would take my own house by force.

Weariness finally overcame me and sleep weighed down my eyelids. I rested until the Aurora roused me. The first thing I noticed was that someone, in the middle of the night, had thrown a cloak over me. I got up, folded the skins I had lain on, entered and set the bundle down on a stool near the entrance.

A new day was beginning with a flurry of activity and light chatter, while the day of vengeance was approaching. The women who worked the millstones were arriving to take over from those who had just finished their stint. But there was one who had not yet reached her measure of wheat and she struggled on. She could not be replaced until her work was done. This was a rule I had established myself before I’d left for the war. I didn’t want a person who had done too little to enjoy the same rest as one who had laboured with great diligence. But after so many years of strain, misfortune and grief of my own, I reasoned that perhaps that woman had failed to produce her measure of wheat not because she was lazy but because she was frail or unwell. ‘Suffering,’ I thought, ‘is the mother of wisdom.’

A crash of thunder sounded in the clear sky and that thin, frail woman, who was dripping with sweat, cried out: ‘Oh Zeus, you who send a thunderbolt out of the blue — a signal for whom I do not know — make this the last day that the suitors feast without pause, obliging me to make so much flour for all the bread they eat, else this toil will be the death of me! May this be the last bread they ever eat!’

I took her words as an omen — my endeavour would be accomplished. Even Zeus, the protector of kings, was on my side.

I saw Telemachus walking towards me. He was dressed and armed and I watched him with pleasure: I would never tire of looking at my boy. I heard him speak to Euriclea: ‘Mai, have you taken care of our guest?’

‘Certainly. Your mother ordered me to prepare a bed for him but he refused. He insisted on sleeping outside, under the portico. .’

A man loses the habit of sleeping in a bed when he’s ten years at war, besieging a city, or at sea, at the mercy of storms.

‘I insisted, believe me, but there was no convincing him,’ she went on. ‘He’s an odd duck, your guest. I offered him dinner but he would only take a cup of wine. I gave him an oxhide and a sheepskin but he laid them one on top of the other and slept uncovered. I waited until he’d fallen asleep and then I covered him with a cloak.’

She was good at feigning, my dear old nurse, and so was Telemachus. Like father, like son. My heart laughed thinking that neither of the two was aware of what the other knew. Telemachus walked by and nodded at me in passing. He was heading to the city, with a spear in his hand and a couple of dogs at his heels. Beautiful animals. I wondered what breed my Argus had been.

In no time, the whole palace was buzzing with activity, all revolving around the arrival of its customary guests: my wife’s suitors. The maidservants were drawing water from the walled fountain outside, to the right of the main gate. Others were sweeping, washing the floors, sponging down the tables, rinsing out the cooking vessels.

And the food that was arriving! Eumeus showed up with three pigs and Melanthius brought two goats. He burst in with loud abuse for me: ‘Still here, you miserable beggar? Are you on your way out, you cur, or do you need me to beat you into deciding? My hands are already itching!’

My hands were itching as well, but Eumeus warned me off with a stern look. It was no time for a fistfight. The food was still coming. Philoetius came in with a cow and two or three more goats. He was still wearing the tab at his neck that had bought him passage on the ferry from Same with his livestock. I recognized him despite the fact that he’d changed so much. When I’d left he was little more than a boy and now he was a full-grown man, with a strong, sturdy build. He had a wrestler’s arms, a bull’s neck and legs that looked like pillars. ‘Just what I need,’ I thought, ‘a single man with the force of three.’

He noticed me but did not recognize me. ‘Hail there, old boy,’ he said with a tone of affection. ‘How’s it going? Not too well, from the looks of it.’

Eumeus stepped in: ‘Philoetius, leave him alone. This friend of ours has been through more than you can begin to imagine.’

But the cowherd continued undeterred. There must have been something about me that wouldn’t let him move on.

‘You know, as soon as I saw you, I thought, “He doesn’t seem like the poor wretch he seems to be.” You may be dressed in rags, but your eyes are sharp and your back is straight, like one of those men who never bend, no matter what. It makes me want to cry to see a man like you in such a sorry state.’

I drew closer and looked straight into his eyes. I wondered whether in some part of his heart or his mind, he wasn’t remembering the gaze of his master who had set off for distant lands so long ago, never to return. .

‘I’m telling you,’ he continued, ‘I got the chills when I saw you. I thought, “Maybe my master is like that poor devil who has to put up with insults and humiliation and beg for a piece of bread.” If he’s still alive, that is, if he hasn’t ended up dead and buried. I still think about him a lot. He made me the keeper of his herds, and here I am slaughtering his animals to feed these arrogant gluttons.’

It was as I’d thought. Without even realizing it, he’d recognized me, and he was moved to think that I might be alive. His loyalty deserved to be rewarded, like Euriclea’s, Eumeus’ and even Argus’. I looked around to make sure that no one could hear me, and replied: ‘You’re an honest and faithful man, so now listen carefully to what I have to say. Your master will return while you are here today, in this house, and if you like you’ll see him kill those gluttons with his own hands. I swear it by Zeus, in the name of the master who is still in your heart.’

Philoetius’ eyes lit up and he flexed his muscles, growling. ‘May Zeus will your words to be true, guest. Then you’ll see what these are worth,’ he said, holding up his huge fists, hard as stone. Eumeus had been nodding as I’d spoken but did not speak himself, waiting for me to reveal myself.

We started hearing the usual commotion that everyone had become accustomed to. The suitors were arriving, like they did every day, and there were many of them. They seemed to be in greater number than the day before.

‘Count them,’ I said in a low voice to Eumeus, and Philoetius shot me a surprised look.

He hadn’t understood entirely yet but he was excited, keen-eyed, looking for a fight. Ire that had lain in wait too long, rage swallowed in silence, had made him impatient. He could feel that the time for settling scores was coming, and soon. I laid a hand on both men’s shoulders. ‘You’ll still need patience,’ I told them, ‘but not for much longer. He’s coming.’

The shriek of an eagle sounded above our heads and we raised our eyes to the sky. The majestic bird of prey was soaring in wide circles over my house, and every time he crossed in front of the sun his black shadow traversed the spans of the portico and the jambs of the great gate like a dark omen of carnage.