I am weary. I haven't written to you for many months and I fear the words of Polyphemus hold true - my voyage has been cursed and I know not when I will be able to return. I am not the man I was when I left Troy, but a mere reflection of my former self.
There is too much for me to tell, so many sorrowful tales. I cannot write it all down, for to think of it will make me weep with regret, sadness and shame. I will try to tell you as much as I can, and maybe I will give you a full account when… that is, if I return.
Soon after we fled Polyphemus, we came to the island of Aeolus, the Lord of the Winds. He offered us a bag filled with the four winds that would blow our fleet home. With the winds we were brought within sight of Ithaca. I wept for joy and the fears I had felt almost melted away. We were within reach of Ithaca's fair harbour, but the greed of my men overcame them! Thinking that Aeolus' bag of winds contained something as trivial as wine, they opened it and we were swept back to Aeolus' island. He refused to lend us any more aid.
Our fleet came next upon the island of the Laestrygonians, a race of savage giants. They hurled boulders at our ships from the top of towering cliffs. All but my own ship and crew were destroyed by their assault. We mourned our companions, but could do no more than that, we were so helpless.
 |
| Circe's Sorcery (http://www.necessaryprose.com/vases.htm) |
Have you ever heard of the sorceress Circe? She lives on the island of Dawn, where we found ourselves next. I sent out a scouting party to search the island and cautioned them to be weary. The sorceress met them and enchanted them with her beauty. She invited them to sup at her table, but the food was infused with magic and they turned into swines.
Meanwhile, I grew impatient waiting for them and ventured into the island myself to locate them. I was met by Hermes, the god of travellers. He warned me of the trickery of the sorceress Circe, whom I would find on the island and gave me moly to eat so that I would not fall prey to Circe's magic. When I met the woman, I did as he bade me and demanded her to return my companions to their human forms. "Brave and cunning one," she said to me in honeyed tones. "I will do as you say, but only if you will become my lover." It was a steep price, I swear, my son. Nevertheless, I was obliged to accept her terms. I had already caused my faithful men much suffering and could not condemn them to this fate.
Accordingly, she reversed her spell on my men. They appeared even younger than they had been when she enchanted them. When they saw me, they ran forward and clutched my hands. Circe was greatly moved and invited us to haul up our ship and rest with her on her island for as long as we willed. The men that remained on our ship were as glad to see me return safely as if they were walking the soil of fair Ithaca once more. Only my crewman and kinsman Eurylochus objected to coming into the home of Circe. He pointed his finger at me and cried, "Do you seek a witch's help to cause us even more suffering? It was your reckless folly that led our friends to their deaths at the hands of Polyphemus, Odysseus!"
The others of the crew stopped me from killing Eurylochus then and there. They suggested that he be left to guard the ship, but he relented and followed us in the end.
When we returned to Circe' household, she bade us forget the struggles we had faced and to strengthen and renew our hearts with food and drink.
Nevertheless, my heart throbbed within me and tears streamed from my eyes for the land I have not seen for many years, nigh on twelve, or so I thought for I had lost count of the winters. In my homesickness, I begged fair Circe to tell me how I might return to Ithaca, my kingdom. She was reluctant to advise me, but eventually I swayed her.
"You must seek Teiresias, the seer," she told me. "You must venture into the realm of the dead, into Hades, and ask of Teiresias the manner in which you may appease Poseidon, whose wrath you have stirred against you by the maiming of his son, Polyphemus."
I followed her instruction and journeyed into Hades, where there is much pain and suffering. I cannot bring myself to tell you of all the dead comrades and fellow warriors from Troy that I saw in those depths. It saddens my heart to think of them, so forgive me for omitting these from my letter. I will tell you that I met with Teiresias and he advised me as I had asked, although his words held grim warnings. I heard that you were safe and well, which cheered my heart, and that your mother has kept faithful to me, although she has had many an opportunity to turn away.
 |
| The Sirens' Tempting Song (http://www.necessaryprose.com/vases.htm) |
I had my men tie me to the mast of the ship and they plugged their ears with wax. No matter how tempting the Sirens' songs, none of us could be allowed to fall victim. When we neared the Sirens, the ocean stilled so that not even the waves would drown out the melodies of the creatures. Circe's advice served us well, however, and we managed to pass this danger safely.
Not long after, once we were safely away from the Sirens, we had to guide our ship through a strait where there dwelt Scylla (a hideous and brutal sea monster) and Charybdis, who swallows ships and men into the depths of the sea. The waters of Charybdis swirled and frothed, boiled and tugged at the ship. We were terrified and tried to avoid the deadly mouth that seemed to open into the depths. As we fought against Charybdis, Scylla pounced and snatched up in her hands six of my strongest men. Artemios was among them, also Perimedes. They screamed my name in desperation, shrieked it in their agony. But I could do nothing! What do all my great deeds amount to when I cannot even save my friends, Telemachus? What could my fame buy me now? Scylla devoured them, still shrieking, and I covered my face with my hands. It was the most piteous thing I have seen in all my years, Telemachus - the demise of my friends, my brave and stalwart comrades.
Still mourning the loss of Artemios, Permiedes and the others, we came to the island of the shining Sun-god, Helios. Now, I had been told by Teiresias that I and my men would still have a chance of returning home if we avoided harming Helios' great herd of cattle. I was aware that we had to keep our hearts set on home and turn not from our path, but I was weary and fell into slumber. While I slept, my starving men slaughtered some of the cattle and ate. Outraged, Zeus struck our ship with a mighty thunderbolt. Our craft splintered and my men - oh, my friends and brothers! - perished. I alone was left alive, clinging to a beam of wood. I came again to Charybdis, but narrowly avoided being swallowed into its wicked depths.
Alone, heart-broken and in despair, I washed ashore onto this island on which I now rest. This is the island of the Nymph Calypso and she has made me her lover also.
And yet I pine for Ithaca. I long to see her vineyards and fields, her city walls. I yearn to see Penelope, your mother, come out to me, arms held wide. I can barely imagine what you must look like now, my son, but you are far from the child I left so many years ago. I find myself with little hope that I should return now. Not while Poseidon, the Earthshaker, still bears ill-will towards me for blinding his son. But then again, I understand his pain as a father. It catches in one's chest and tears at one's heart. I would not live in the finest palaces or on the most beautiful of islands for a thousand years if I could have the chance to see you again, at least once.
I have striven to guide you and offer you wisdom from afar, but I fear that I have no more wisdom and courage myself. So pray tell me, my son, ought I to return? Would you rejoice to see me? Would it not be best for me to die here than to risk suffering more than I already have? Your once-great father is old and I fear that my strength has all but left me. But, Telemachus, if you were to assure me that my home-coming could in some way bring you joy, why, I would face any danger left in my path to reach you.
Dear son, I am not certain if I have ever told you these things so plainly - I love you, my precious, precious Telemachus.
No comments:
Post a Comment