The Adventures of Ulysses (12 page)

They dumped the clothes in the water and stamped on them, dancing and trampling and treading them clean. Then they dragged the clothes out, and pounded them on flat stones, afterwards spreading them to dry in the hot sun.

They then flung off their garments and swam in the river, scrubbing each other and anointing themselves with oil.

“Well, you look clean enough to get married,” cried Nausicaa. “But it’s easier to wash than to wed, isn’t it, girls?”

The maidens giggled wildly, and Nausicaa shouted with laughter. She was so drunk with sun and water that she felt she could run up the mountain and dance all day and night. It was impossible to sit still. She seized a leather ball from the cart and flung it to one of her maids, who caught it and threw it back. Then the others joined in, and the girls frisked on the riverbank, tossing the ball back and forth.

Ulysses awoke from a deep sleep. He was still dazed and could barely remember how he had gotten among the reeds. He peered out, saw the girls playing, and then shrank back, for he did not wish to be seen as he was, naked and bruised.

But Nausicaa threw the ball so hard that it sailed over the heads of the girls and fell near the clump of reeds where Ulysses was hiding. A girl ran to pick it up, then shrank back, screaming.

“A man!” she cried. “A man—all bloody and muddy.”

Ulysses reached out, plucked a spray of leaves from a fallen olive branch, and came out of the reeds.

The girls saw a naked man holding a club. His shoulders were bleeding, his legs muddy, and his hair crusted with salt. They fled, screaming. But Nausicaa stood where she was and waited for him.

“Is this why Athene sent me here?” she thought “Is this my husband, come out of the river? Is this what I am to take after all the beautiful young men I have refused? Come back, you silly geese,” she shouted to the girls. “Haven’t you ever seen a man before?”

Then she turned to Ulysses, who had fallen to his knees before her.

“Speak, grimy stranger,” she said. “Who are you, and what do you want?”

“Do not set your dogs upon me,” said Ulysses. “I did not mean to surprise you in your glade.”

“What talk is this? Are you out of your head?”

“Forgive me, but I know the fate of Actaeon, who came upon you in the wood. You turned him into a stag and had your hounds tear him to pieces.”

“Whom do you take me for?”

“Why, you are Artemis, of course, Goddess of the Chase, maiden of the silver bow. I have heard poets praise your beauty, and I know you by your white arms. By your hair, and eyes, and the way you run—like light over water.”

“Sorry to disappoint you, but I am not Artemis. I am Nausicaa. My father is king of this island. And I ask again—who are you?”

“An unlucky man.”

“Where do you come from?”

“Strange places, princess. I am a sailor, hunted by a god who sends storms against me, wrecks my ships, kills my men. I come now from Ogygia, where I have been held captive by the Titaness, Calypso, who bound me with her spells. But as I was sailing away, a storm leaped out of the blue sky, smashing my boat. And I have been swimming in the sea for more than two days. I was dashed against the rocks of your coast but managed to swim around it till I found this river. When I came ashore here, I had no strength to go farther and fell where you found me.”

“I suppose no one would look his best after spending two days in the sea and being beaten against rocks. You tell a good story, I’ll say that for you. Why don’t you bathe in the river now and try to make yourself look human again. We can give you oil for anointing, and clean garments belonging to my brother. Then you can follow me to the castle and tell your story there.”

“Thank you, sweet princess,” said Ulysses.

He took the flask of oil and went into the river and bathed and anointed himself. When he came out, he found clean garments waiting. The serving girls helped him dress and combed out his tangled hair.

“Well,” said Nausicaa, “you look much improved. I can believe you’re some kind of chieftain now. Are you married?”

“Yes.”

“Of course. You would have to be, at your age.”

“I have not seen my wife for twenty years. She considers herself a widow.”

“Has she remarried?”

“Perhaps. I do not know. Last I heard, she was being besieged by suitors.”

“I am besieged by suitors, too, but haven’t found any I like well enough to marry.”

As they spoke at the bank of the river, the serving girls had been piling the laundry into the mule cart

“But I am thoughtless, keeping you here,” said Nausicaa. “You need food and rest. You must come to the castle and finish your story there.”

“The sight of your beauty is food and drink to me. And the sound of your voice makes me forget my weariness.”

She laughed. “Are you courting me, stranger?”

“I am a homeless wanderer. I cannot court a princess. But I can praise her beauty.”

“Come along to the castle. I want to introduce you to my father and mother. They are kind to strangers, very partial to brave men, and love to hear stories. And I want to hear more about you, too.”

Now, that day, as it happened, King Alcinous had consulted an oracle, who prophesied, saying:

“I see danger. I see a mountain blocking your harbor, destroying your commerce. I sense the cold wrath of the god of the sea.”

“But the earth-shaker has always favored us,” said the king. “He has showered blessings upon this island. Our fleets roam far, return laden. Why should he be angered now?”

“I do not know. It is not clear, it is not clear. But I say to you, O King, beware of strangers, shipwrecks, storytellers. Believe no tale, make no loan, suffer no harm.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Neither do I. But there is no need to understand, only to obey.”

The oracle departed, leaving the king very thoughtful.

Just at this time, Nausicaa was leading Ulysses into the courtyard of the castle. She bade her maids take him to the guest house.

“Wait till I send for you,” she said. “Food will be brought, and wine.”

She raced to her mother’s chamber.

“Oh, Mother, Mother,” she cried. “I’m so glad I obeyed the dream and went to the river to wash our clothes. What do you think I found there? A man, hiding in the reeds, naked and wounded. I soon set him right and brought him here. Such an interesting man.”

“Brought him here? Here to the castle? Paraded a naked beggar through the streets for the whole town to see? My dear child, haven’t you given them enough to gossip about?”

“He’s no beggar, Mother. He’s a sailor or a pirate or something. Such stories he tells. Listen, he landed on an island once where men eat flowers that make them fall asleep and forget who they are. So they sleep all day and pick flowers all night and are very happy. This man’s crew went ashore and ate the flowers and forgot who they were and didn’t want to go back to the ship, just sleep. But he dragged them back anyway. I’d like to try those flowers, wouldn’t you?”

“Who is this man? What’s his name?”

“They came to another island where the sun and moon chase each other around the sky, and day flashes on like a lamp when you pass your hand over it. But you know who lived there? Giant cannibals, tall as trees, and they killed most of his men and cooked them in a big pot and broke two of his ships—and he had only one left.”

“I asked you his name.”

“I don’t know. He didn’t tell me. It’s a secret or something.”

“Do you believe everything he tells you?”

“Oh, yes. He’s not exactly handsome, but very strong-looking, you know. Too old though, much too old. And married, of course. But I don’t think he gets along with his wife. You can see he has suffered. You can see by his eyes.”

“Where is he now?”

“In the guest house. Don’t you think we should have a banquet for him tonight? He’s a distinguished visitor, isn’t he—all those things he did?”

“We don’t quite know what he is, do we, dear? I think I had better meet him myself first. Your father’s in a funny mood. Met with the oracle today, and something went wrong, I think.”

“Yes, yes, I want you to meet him before Father does. I want to know what you think. Shall I fetch him?”

“I’ll send a servant, child. You are not to see him again until I find out more about him. Do you understand?”

“Oh, yes, find out, find out! Tell me everything he says.”

Queen Arete spoke with Ulysses, and then went to her husband, the king, and told him of their visitor. She was amazed to see his face grow black with rage.

“By the gods,” he cried. “These are foul tidings you bring. Only today the oracle warned against strangers, shipwrecks, and storytellers. And now you tell me our daughter has picked up some nameless ruffian who combines all three—a shipwrecked stranger telling wild tales. Precisely what is needed to draw upon us the wrath of the sea god. I shall sacrifice him to Poseidon, and there will be an end to it.”

“You may not do that,” said Arete.

“Who says ‘may not’ to me? I am king.”

“Exactly why you may not. Because you are king. The man comes to you as a supplicant. He is under your protection. If you harm him, you will bring down upon yourself the wrath of all the gods—not just one. That is the law of hospitality.”

So the king ordered a great banquet that night to honor his guest. But certain young men of the court who were skilled at reading the king’s moods knew that he was displeased and decided to advance themselves in his favor by killing the stranger and making it seem an accident.

“We will have games in the courtyard,” said Euryalus, their leader. “We will hurl discus and javelin, shoot with the bow, wrestle, and challenge him to take part. And, when he does, it may be that some unlucky throw of javelin, or misshot arrow, will rid us of his company. Or, perchance, if he wrestles, he will find his neck being broken. It looks to be a thick neck, but he has been long at sea and is unused to such exercises.”

So the young men began to hold their contests in the courtyard. When Ulysses stopped to watch them, Euryalus stepped forth and said, “There is good sport here, stranger, if you care to play.”

“No, thank you,” said Ulysses. “I’ll just watch.”

“Yes, of course,” said Euryalus. “These games are somewhat dangerous. And one can see that you are a man of prudence. But then, of course, you are rather old for such sports, aren’t you?”

He laughed sneeringly, picked up the heavy discus, whirled, and threw. It sailed through the air and landed with a clatter far away. All the young men laughed and cheered.

“Where I come from,” said Ulysses, “such little discs are given babies to teethe on. The grown men need a bit more to test them.”

He strode over to a battle chariot and broke off one of its wheels at the axle. It was a very heavy wheel, of oak bound with brass. He hefted it, and said:

“A little light, but it will do.”

For he was filled with the wild rage that makes a man ten times stronger than he really is. He cradled the great wheel, whirled, and threw. It flew through the air, far past where the discus had landed, and thudded against the inner wall of the courtyard, knocking a hole in it. He turned to the others, who were paralyzed with amazement

“Poor throw,” he said. “But then, as you say, I’m rather old for such sport. However, since we are gathered here in this friendly fashion, let us play more games. If any of you would like to try me with sword or spear or dagger, or even a simple cudgel, let him step forth. Or, perchance, there is one who would prefer to wrestle?”

“That was well thrown, stranger,” said Euryalus. “What is your name?”

“I do not choose to tell you my name, O athlete.”

“You are not courteous.”

“If you care to teach me manners, young sir, I offer again. Sword, spear, cudgel—any weapon you choose. Or no weapon at all except our hands.”

“We are civilized here in Phaeacia,” said Euryalus. “We do not fight with our guests. But I cannot understand why you refuse to tell us your name.”

“A god hunts me. If I say my name, it may attract his notice.”

The young men nodded. For this is what was believed at that time. But Euryalus ran to tell the king.

“I knew it,” said Alcinous. “He carries a curse. He is the very man the oracle warned me against. I must get rid of him. But the law of hospitality forbids me to kill him under my roof. So tonight we entertain him at a banquet. But tomorrow he leaves this castle, and we shall find a way to see that he does not return.”

“He is no weakling, this old sailor,” said Euryalus. “He throws the discus almost as well as I.”

Now, all this time, Nausicaa had been thinking about the stranger and weaving a plan, for she was determined to find out who he was. She visited the old bard who had taught her to play the lyre, and whose task it was to sing for the guests at the royal feasts. She spoke and laughed with the old man and fed him undiluted wine until he lost his wits. Then she locked him in the stable, where he fell fast asleep on a bundle of straw, and she departed with his lyre.

At the banquet that night, when the king called for the bard to sing his tales, Nausicaa said, “The old man is ill and cannot come. However, if you permit, I shall sing for your guests.”

The king frowned. But Ulysses said, “This illness is a blessing, King. I think I should rather hear your black-haired daughter sing than the best bard who ever plucked a lyre.”

The king nodded. Nausicaa smiled and began to sing. She sang a tale of heroes. Of those who fought at Troy. She sang of fierce Achilles and mighty Ajax. Of Menelaus and his shattering war cry. Of brave Diomedes, who fought with Ares himself when the war god came in his brazen chariot to help the Trojans.

She watched Ulysses narrowly as she sang. She saw his face soften and his eyes grow dreamy, and she knew that he had been there and that she was singing of his companions. But she still did not know his name.

Then she began to sing of that master of strategy, the great trickster, Ulysses. She sang of the wooden horse and how the warriors hid inside while the Trojans debated outside, deciding what to do. Some of them wanted to chop it to pieces; others wished to take it to a cliff and push it off; still others wanted to bring it within the city as an offering to the gods—which, of course, was what Ulysses wanted them to do. She told of the men hiding in the belly of the horse, listening to their fate being debated, and of the fierce joy that flamed in their hearts when they heard the Trojans decide to drag the horse within the walls. And of how, in the blackness of the night, they came out of the horse, and how Ulysses led the charge. She sang of him fighting there by the light of the burning houses, knee-deep in blood, and how he was invincible that night and carried everything before him.