Stories from the Odyssey

by H. L. Havell; Homer

Of the thirteen vessels with which Odysseus sailed from Troy only one was now left. Weary and broken in spirit they voyaged on over the waste of waters; and when, after two or three days' sail, they landed on a low-lying coast, they lay down for two days and two nights, like men whose last hope in life was gone. On the third morning Odysseus roused himself, and ascending a rising ground saw to his dismay that they had landed on a small island. On all sides stretched the boundless sea, without a trace of land on the whole horizon.

As he was descending the hill he heard a rustling in a neighbouring thicket, and a tall stag with branching antlers stepped forth, and began to make his way down to a little stream which skirted the foot of the hill. From the high ground on which he stood Odysseus had a full view of the beast's broad back, and taking steady aim he flung his spear and pierced him through the spine. Odysseus' eyes glistened when he saw the splendid quarry at his feet, for never had he seen so fine a buck. Not without effort he took the carcass on his back, and bore it down to his ship, where he found his men still lying listlessly where he had left them. "Courage, comrades," he cried, as he flung his heavy burden on the sand. "We shall not die before our day, and while we have life we must eat and drink. Better a full sorrow than a fasting."^[11] So they ate and drank, and made good cheer.

Next day Odysseus divided his whole crew into two companies, two and twenty each, with himself as captain of one division, and Eurylochus, his faithful squire, in command of the other. Then he drew lots with Eurylochus to determine which of the two should undertake the perilous duty of exploring the island. The lot fell upon Eurylochus, and he at once set forth with his party, pursued by the prayers and tears of those who remained behind.

Passing the low hills which skirted the coast, they struck into a forest path, and presently came to an open glade, in the midst of which stood a fair stone dwelling. And as they came and drew nigh unto the house they saw a strange sight: before the doors stalked and glared a multitude of wolves and lions, and other beasts of prey, and when they saw the men these fearful creatures came fawning round them, like hounds welcoming their master, and did them no harm.

Quaking with wonder and fear, they came and stood on the threshold, through which they caught sight of a young and lovely dame, pacing to and fro about her loom, and weaving a wondrous web, fair and large, such as the daughters of the gods are wont to weave. And as she plied her task, she sang to herself in a low and thrilling voice, sad and sweet as the notes of the Æolian harp. Presently she turned her face to the doorway, and saw the men standing without. With a bright smile she came forward, and bade them enter; and they all went in, save only Eurylochus, who was older than the rest, and liked not the look in that fair lady's eyes.

"Welcome, fair youths," she said, "to the halls of Circe, daughter of the sun. Sit ye down, while I prepare you a posset to slake your thirst on this hot day." So they sat down, and Circe took wine, and grated cheese, and honey, and barley-meal, and mixed them in a bowl, muttering strange words, and adding a single drop from a little phial which she took from a secret cupboard. Then she gave them to drink, touching them, as she did so, with a wand; and no sooner had they tasted than their form and countenance was changed into the likeness of swine, though they kept the mind and feelings of men. Circe now drove them all together into a stye, and flung down beechmast, and acorns, and cornel berries, for them to eat.

It was drawing towards noon when Odysseus saw a solitary figure descending the slope which led down to the beach. "Eurylochus!" he cried, recognising the familiar features of his squire. "Why comest thou alone?" For some time Eurylochus was unable to utter a word; at last he spoke, in a broken and altered voice, while his face was blanched with deadly terror. "They are gone," he faltered—"spirited away—vanished without a sign. The place is haunted: let us away!"

Without a word, Odysseus caught up his sword and bow, and ordered Eurylochus to show him the way to the place where he had lost his men. But Eurylochus clung to his knees, and besought him to remain, and prepare for instant flight. Seeing him to be unnerved by terror, Odysseus bade him stay by the ship, and he himself set out alone to learn the secrets of this mysterious island.

Just before coming within sight of Circe's palace, he saw, standing in his path, a fair and comely youth, who greeted him kindly, and took him by the hand. There was something more than human beauty in the face of this stranger, and his words showed more than human knowledge of Odysseus and his affairs; for indeed he was no other than Hermes, the messenger of the gods, sent down from heaven to aid Odysseus in this strait. "Son of Laertes," he said, "why goest thou thus unwarily, even as a silly bird into the net of the fowler? Pause awhile, or, instead of setting free thy men, thou wilt become even as they are." So saying he stooped down, and with careful hands tore up a little plant which was growing at their feet; the flower of it was white as milk, and the root was black. "Take this plant," he said, giving it to Odysseus. "It is the magic herb, Moly, and no human hand may pluck it; having this, thou mayest defy all the spells of Circe. And when thou comest to the house of that fair witch, she will offer thee a potion, mixed with baneful drugs: drink thou thereof, for it shall do thee no harm. But when she smites thee with her wand draw thou thy sword and make as though thou wouldst slay her; and she will be filled with fear, for none ever resisted her power before. Then do thou compel her to swear a great oath that she will devise no further ill against thee." As the last words were uttered Hermes vanished, leaving Odysseus standing with the plant in his hand.