Homer’s Daughter (19 page)

I waited for Aethon to tell the rest of the story as I had heard it—how the ship was struck by lightning and he drifted ashore at Rheithrum. But he knew that I should not like my uncle to ask embarrassing questions, and therefore invented a tale of how the Corinthian captain had also decided to sell him as a slave; and how, halfway down the coast towards Motya, they had landed to fetch water, leaving him tightly lashed under the benches. “I managed to bite myself free with my strong teeth,” Aethon said, “swam ashore and took to the hills. The Gods guided my feet up a rough track until I reached the house of this noble swineherd. My lord Mentor, I was rich once, and though I am now impoverished, perhaps you can guess at the harvest by a survey of the stubble. Well, I have escaped black death from drowning, and slavery, which is worse than death, and here I am, good Cousin, at your service. If a bold heart, a strong sword arm and a marksman's eye can be of use to you and my kinswoman, the Princess Nausicaa, in your present misfortunes, you know on whom to call. Eumaeus has told me about the cruel wretches who are plotting your ruin and the ruin of the royal house.”

My uncle came to a sudden decision. “Aethon,” he said, “your features are the features of our clan; your courage is
our courage; your pride, our pride. With your permission and that of my niece I propose to inform her suitors that you have been sent here from Sandy Pylus by my brother-in-law the King to be Nausicaa's husband; that she consents; that I consent; and that they no longer have any excuse for camping in our courts. This announcement, you understand, will be one of expediency alone. Although I should be happy indeed to find that the King would accept you as his son-in-law, I am unable to guarantee anything of the sort. Besides, he has promised my niece not to force any husband on her whom she dislikes; and who knows whether she shares my high opinion of you? I shall therefore add that you have sent to Crete for the bride price and that meanwhile the marriage cannot be consummated. This will enable us, if all goes well, to stave off our troubles for a while. Now I must be off, leaving Nausicaa under your charge until my nephew Clytoneus keeps his tryst here, which may be tonight. He has sailed to Minoa in the hope of armed assistance from his elder brother Halius.”

“I accept the charge willingly. What are my instructions?”

“If the suitors do as I ask, then I shall send up embroidered robes and handsome red shoes so that you can make a good impression on your entrance. If not, stay here in hiding until I send arms and armour instead. And when you accompany him, Nausicaa, wear moly, rather than roses, in your hair; and rub moly on his palms, that Hermes may protect him. But whatever news I send, let me know as soon as possible what message Clytoneus brings from Halius. Cut it with a knife on a strip of bark and give it to Eumaeus's son to hide in his wallet among the bread and cheese. And let us all trust in the Blessed Gods!”

“Wait, rest. You are forgetting your dinner.”

“I cannot wait. There is still food in the bag to eat as I go, and my feet feel no longer tired; they will skim down the mountain as if shod with the winged sandals of Hermes.”

He kissed me tenderly, grasped Aethon by the hand, and went to tell Eumaeus that I would be staying in the cottage for safety's sake, and that nobody except the family must know of my presence there.

I watched him out of view, and sighed gently. When I returned to the cottage, Eumaeus was weeping, but he would not say why.

That evening, after the sows and piglings had been driven, dismally grunting and squeaking, into their several sties, and the boars into their pen, Eumaeus, his son, Aethon and I sat drinking wine together in the cottage for an hour or so until suppertime, while the noise of the beasts gradually subsided and they settled down for the night. Supper was a splendid meal because Eumaeus had chosen to slaughter his best boar in my honour, a fat five-year-old with a heart-rending squeal. His men dragged it to the hearth, where a great heap of dry firewood already blazed. Eumaeus shore off and threw on the fire a tuft of the boar's bristles, at the same time praying to the Immortals for the speedy reunion of our family and a fortunate close, as he said discreetly,
“to the dispute about the Princess's marriage.” Then he brandished a faggot, which he crashed down on the base of the boar's skull, knocking it senseless; whereupon his son, having slit its throat, singed, flayed and jointed the carcase expertly. A slice cut from each of the joints was then laid on a cushion of fat, sprinkled with barley meal and thrown into the flames as an offering to the Goddess Cerdo. When the meat had been reduced to small square pieces on the hacking block—an up-ended pine log—we all squatted around the fire with wooden spits in our hands, toasting the succulent pork. Eumaeus then told Aethon the story of his life, which I had never heard before except in fragments.

“Being certainly no worse born than yourself, my lord,” he began, “I incurred the Gods' jealousy at a far earlier age. Ctesius, my father, ruled two small Ionian cities, Syraco and Ortygia, the latter built on an island which lies across the great harbour to the east of Sicily, the former on the mainland near by. It is a very salubrious region, and rich in flocks, herds, barley and grapes. I was not yet six years old when Phoenician traders brought to Ortygia their cargo of pretty things from Egypt, and my nurse, a Phoenician captive, fell in love with the mate. Having seduced this fine strapping creature, the mate undertook to bring her home to Sidon and marry her if she could supply an adequate dowry. One evening, therefore, while he and my mother bargained over an amber and gold necklace which had caught her fancy, and all the maids crowded around to watch the fun, my cruel nurse clutched me by the hand and slipped out of the palace. In the banqueting court she passed a number of tables heaped with broken meats where a feast had been in progress. My
father and his fellow feasters were away at the Council Hall, so she snatched up three valuable goblets, hid them in her bosom, and hurried me to the harbour, promising to show me the Phoenician ship if I kept quiet. I trotted happily along at her side, but no sooner were we aboard and my attention had been distracted by a beautiful little toy—a jewelled horse with movable head and tail—than the ship weighed anchor and I found myself a prisoner. They even gagged my mouth to keep me from crying out, and the nurse, who had always hitherto treated me with exaggerated affection, slapped my face and said: ‘And now, spoiled and peevish brat, you will learn the bitterness of servitude as I have learned it.' Though a mere child, I knew enough to answer: ‘Nurse: I never wronged you, and may the Gods avenge me!' For this she beat me so cruelly that the captain intervened and took me under his own charge. When we were only seven days out, the wicked woman lost her balance as a gust of wind made the ship heel, and falling from the steering deck into the hold, broke her skull.

“I was now all alone, and the Sidonian captain sold me to a Rhodian merchant who, in the following year, brought me back to Ortygia confident of a great reward because I was my father's only child. My father, however, having meanwhile died, the throne had passed to a cousin of mine, and this godless rascal swore that I was not the lost prince but a pretender, and refused point-blank to let my mother go aboard the ship. The Rhodian then sold me, at a modest price, to the King of Drepanum, Princess Nausicaa's grandfather, who treated me kindly and brought me up in the Palace with his own children. Being a slave, I could not aspire beyond my
station—though I dearly loved the eldest princess, and she me—and when old enough to earn a living, instead of idling about in a fine mantle and tunic, with a couple of hounds at my heels, and sleek perfumed hair, I had to put on working clothes, forget my delicate upbringing, and learn the trade of hog farmer as apprentice to the King's Sican swineherd. A good life in its way, admittedly, and I could always count on the friendship of the old King and Queen; and having married the chief swineherd's daughter—now long dead—I inherited his position. But occasionally I remember that I was born a prince and dream of doing great deeds with sword and shield. Before coming up here I used to perform military exercises in the company of Nausicaa's splendid father, and I may still perhaps have the knack and strength to shine in battle. Last year, however, what little hope remained of winning back my paternal inheritance finally faded. The Corinthians, taking advantage of dynastic disputes, seized Syraco and Ortygia and founded their proud new city of Syracuse, which they hold with thirty war galleys.”

“Old man,” said Aethon, “the blow which you struck that hog would have sent a helmeted man down to Hades just as quickly.”

When the roasted meat had been pulled off the spits, Eumaeus produced seven beechwood trenchers and heaped each of them high. The first for me, the second for Aethon, the third for himself, the fourth for his son, and the fifth for Mesaulius, a Sicel slave whom he had bought cheap from a charcoal burner because he seemed to be dying, but soon cured with mountain herbs and good feeding. The sixth and seventh platters were reserved for the mountain Nymphs and
Pastoral Hermes, who hold orgies together in the groves of Hypereia at every spring equinox. Mesaulius doled out quantities of barley bread, and had it not been for the fleas I could hardly have desired a better meal. But they were eating me alive, and the prospect of spending the entire night in the cottage appalled me. Aethon, I could see, was suffering almost as much as I, which gave me some comfort. At last Mesaulius cleared away the food and Eumaeus announced that the time had come to turn in. Though it was cold, gusty weather and rain came pelting down the smoke hole, hissing on the embers, he had decided that it would be improper for any man to remain in my company, even if a curtain were rigged up. He offered me his bed, and his best duffle cloak as a blanket, showed me how to bolt the door against intruders, solemnly bade me sleep well, and led his companions out, leaving me alone with the fire and the fleas. They went off to the shelter of an overhanging rock near the gate, where they had piled a heap of straw on a wide bed of brushwood. Each took a watch in turn, because Sican bandits might be about; though Eumaeus's hounds would have given the alarm in any case. I envied Aethon! A fireside attracts fleas, and unless he brought away any from the cottage he must have slept comfortably enough. Eumaeus and his men no longer noticed fleabites, their blood being habituated to the poison, or their skin too tough for the insects' jaws to puncture.

I could not sleep a wink but sat on a stool by the fire, scratching and picking the black torments off my white body. Strangely enough, my head was flooded with beautiful, smooth-flowing hexameter verses: the story of how Ulysses visited Aeaea and encountered Athene, who presented him
with moly; which I made like cyclamen, of course, not garlic. “To be a poet is easy,” I thought. “I could compose a whole fytte in a single night, I believe.” However, I stopped after sixty lines, and memorized them; had I attempted more, I should probably have forgotten all. This was the beginning of my grand epic, though it had not yet taken shape in my mind. Eumaeus, when I told him later about my experience, gave the credit to the Goddess Cerdo, who inspires poetry and oracular utterances as well as protecting swineherds; but I had the fleas to thank for keeping me awake. As soon as the first signs of dawn showed through the smoke hole I shot back the bolt, went out into the cold farmyard and climbed a little way up the wall to watch for Clytoneus, who should soon be coming along the tortuous western road from Halicyae. I had been waiting only a short while when he startled me by calling my name, and there he stood close behind me. The hounds, knowing him well, had not announced his arrival with their usual bloodcurdling hullabaloo. Eumaeus was now shouting for Mesaulius to bring wine and bread and a trencher of cold meat. We entered the cottage, fanned up the fire and breakfasted; but since Clytoneus made no mention of his journey, except that he had sheltered from the storm in a wayside shrine, and since I refrained from questions, though obviously burning to hear his news, Eumeaus went out and attended to the hogs.

“Good news?” I asked, as I closed the door.

“Good news,” Clytoneus answered without much enthusiasm. “I saw Halius and he promises help. Let me tell you what happened. The wind was dead astern as soon as we passed Cape Lilybaeum, and we made Minoa on the afternoon
of the following day. Naturally, the Sicel harbour guards were suspicious—ours must have been the first Elyman ship to touch there for five years—but on hearing that I had an urgent message for Halius, they changed their attitude. Halius has built the King a palace in Greek style, rather like our own though smaller, and when I arrived some pretty slave girls bathed me, rubbed me with oil and fetched clean linen. Then a chair was set at a polished olivewood table, and the same girls brought a variety of fish and game and a long chine of beef, and sauces, and sweetmeats; and wine in a golden goblet. By the way, the horns of the heifer that provided the beef had been gilded in honour of the Sicel Moon Goddess Cardo, who is much the same as Eumaeus's Cerdo. At last Halius appeared and sat down opposite, pretending not to recognize me and too polite to say a word until I had finished eating; but studied me intently. He looked well and prosperous and the Minoans seemed to hold him in greater awe than any Greek ever earned at home. The meal ended; a girl brought a silver bowl of warm water, washed my greasy hands and wiped them with a linen cloth.

“Then Halius asked guardedly: ‘Who are you, my lord? That cloak is evidence of your royal blood, and so is your equipment. I gather that you have a message for me, but I have not yet learned the sender's name.'

“‘Dear Halius, do you not recognize me?' I cried. ‘I am your brother Clytoneus, come here from your own mother, and from your sister Nausicaa.' His expression grew tender, and he drew his purple robe over his eyes to hide the tears. Then he enquired after your health. I must tell you, by the way, that Halius has become so Sicelized that nobody would
take him to be an Elyman, if it were not for his great size. He had extraordinary luck when he first arrived. The King, you see, was ordered by his Council to choose a son-in-law and heir presumptive at the annual games celebrated for the founder of Minoa. Yet of the only two candidates who came forward, one had an eye gouged out in the wrestling match and the other an ear sliced off in the sword fight. At this Cardo's oracle pronounced that none but whole men must reign at Minoa, and that the heir chosen by the Goddess was hastening from the west, with anger in his heart, which must be assuaged at all costs. The priestess meant Halius and, according to him, relied on divine knowledge rather than on a well-organized intelligence system.”