The Oracles of Troy (The Adventures of Odysseus)

Then, as they pulled up the stone anchors that morning, the weather had changed. With a speed that surprised Eperitus, the wind picked up and the skies grew dark with clouds that rolled down from the heavens to press upon the rising turmoil of the sea. The easy motion of the waves that Eperitus’s legs had learned to accommodate in the earlier part of the voyage now turned violent, pitching him about the deck and turning his stomach so that he was sick over Omeros’s sandals. Omeros, green-faced and almost too ill to notice, returned the compliment. Sthenelaus’s voice fought against the wind, ordering the crew to angle the sail so that the ship was driven diagonally across the waves. A moment later the spar was lowered halfway down the mast to reduce the pressure and steady the roll of the galley. That was as much as they could do in the face of the gale, but as the ship drifted in relative safety a new cry went up. Land had been spotted to the north.

Eperitus, who had remained astern with Omeros, was now joined by Polites and Eurybates.

‘It’s Zacynthos,’ Polites announced, a hint of excitement in his normally deep, slow voice. ‘Come on.’

He hoisted Eperitus up by his arm and dragged him to the prow, followed by Eurybates and Omeros. Odysseus was already there, not even noticing his countrymen as he grasped the bow rail and squinted hard against the squall. They joined him in silence, staring through the sheet-rain at the almost imperceptible horizon rolling from left to right before them. Eperitus saw the line of the Peloponnesian coast on the starboard side of the galley, which Sthenelaus kept them in sight of at all times, but despite his sharp vision he was unable to see the new land that had been spotted. Eventually he caught a brief glimpse of something black and indistinct, but the act of focussing on a static point in a world of constant motion forced his stomach to contract in protest. He vomited again, this time managing to reach the side of the ship before the liquid spilled from his lips, then staggered back to suffer in solitude on the benches. One by one the others sat down until only Odysseus remained, lost in his own thoughts and memories as he stared at the southernmost point of the kingdom he had not seen for ten years.

Slowly, Zacynthos grew from a small blot to something that was visibly a large, if still distant, island. The gale was already dying away and the galley would soon head towards the mainland, to seek the mouth of the River Alpheius. There they would make their final landfall of the voyage and head inland to find Pisa, and hopefully the tomb of Pelops. Knowing this, Eperitus reluctantly extracted himself from the shelter afforded by Polites and Eurybates, and staggered up the middle of the ship to join the lone figure of Odysseus at the prow. Despite his nausea, which was exaggerated by his supernaturally enhanced senses, Eperitus fought down the desire to vomit again.

‘Thinking of home?’ he asked, raising his voice over the roaring wind.

Odysseus nodded.

‘They’re so close,’ he said, just loud enough for Eperitus to hear. ‘It’s strange, but the nearer I am to Penelope, the clearer I can recall her face. Back in Ilium I could barely picture her, but here –’ He reached out with his fingertips. ‘Here it’s as if I can see her before me in the rain. But it’s only a memory, an image of how she used to be, and what makes it worse is the real Penelope is just over there, beyond the storm. If only I could see her as she is now.’

‘I’m sure she’s as beautiful as the day you left her.’

‘Yes,’ Odysseus said. ‘Ten years would barely have added a line to her face. Unlike me. I feel like the past decade has been spent in Hades, surrounded by horrors and forgetful of the beauty of the real world. It’s as if the Odysseus who sailed away from Ithaca has died a thousand times since then, and all that’s left is this.’ He plucked dismissively at his tunic. ‘I doubt she would even recognise me any more. And what would Telemachus make of me? Could he ever come to love a father he’s never known? Why, Mentor and Halitherses will be more like fathers to him than I can ever be.’

‘Uncles, maybe, but you’re his real father, Odysseus. Nothing can replace that. And the sooner we find this bone – ’

‘Agamemnon and Nestor were right, you know. If this had been my own ship I’d be on my way to Ithaca now. Oh, I’d probably tell myself it was just a short visit, a day or two to see my family. But days would become weeks and weeks months, until I’d no longer care about Agamemnon’s war or my oath to Menelaus. The fact Diomedes is in command prevents that, but it hasn’t stopped me thinking the strangest, most desperate things, Eperitus. Before you joined me, I was even considering whether I could leap overboard and swim to Zacynthos –’

‘That’d be madness,’ Eperitus exclaimed.

‘Madness indeed,’ said another voice.