The sail was drawn taut, bulging in the strong winds Circe had summoned.
Odysseus stood proudly at the trireme's prow, legs widespread to maintain his balance on the rocking deck. A frown darkened his features, as the wind carried the exotic, floral scent of Circe's island. With mixed feelings, he remembered the copper-haired sorceress on her beautiful island; she had enchanted his men and tried to win his heart, never ceasing her attempts to make him forget about Penelope, but she had also housed them for a full year, so that they might recuperate from their travels and when he had decided to leave her, she had helped him prepare without spite. His scowl deepened as he recalled her parting words. With a sigh, he turned around, and once again regretted to see not even a single mast besides their own; so many proud warriors, good men, who had fought bitterly for ten years and had survived the bite of Trojan swords, had lost all hope of ever reaching home when cold Hades had called for them. Determined to at least protect the men that were left to him, he spoke.
"Friends," His men looked up from their respective chores, squinting against the sun behind Odysseus's back. "We have suffered a long journey, and have lost many good men. But finally, we are on our way home. However, Circe has warned me of the dangers of these waters. Firstly, we will pass the isle of the Sirens." A murmur went though the men and they paled at the mention of the wicked creatures all sailors feared. His voice a little louder than before, Odysseus continued, trying to dispel their fear. "We all know these evil creatures sink ships and devour men; but Circe has revealed to me their secret. They lure their prey with sweet songs, and so, all we have to do to escape them, is stuff our ears with beeswax so we won't hear their voices." As he spoke, several men relaxed visibly, while other still looked incredulous. Perimedes rose. "Odysseus, you cannot expect us to sail towards those monsters with nothing but the word of that witch to protect us. For all you know, she might be lying through her teeth, sending us all to our deaths with her false council."
Odysseus snorted. "And then how, Perimedes, would you suggest we avoid the Sirens? We cannot change course with this magical gale driving us forward. Waiting for it to subside would be plain stupid; Circe promised it would carry us to the isle, for that is as far as her magic can support it. Whether we like it our not, we are passing the Sirens." He laughed bitterly. "And even if we died, we'd only have to wait a little longer for our family to join us in Hades' halls." Perimedes stared at his king, face unreadable, and then he quietly sat back down. Odysseus glanced over the men, waiting if any other had something to say about his plans. But none stirred, they just stared back at him, some scared, some with what looked like concern.
I don't need my own men to worry about me, he thought angrily as he continued. "For safety's sake, everyone should block their ears. But I wish to hear the Siren's song. Tie me to the mast as we near the island, and whatever you do, do not untie me until the island is well out of sight, no matter how much I threaten or howl or cry."
His companions nodded silently, put-off by their king's erratic behaviour.
Soon the island appeared on their horizon, a dark irregularity marking where blue sea met blue sky. Propelled as they were by the magical wind, they neared the island with unnatural speed. An anxious quiet took hold of the ship, as the men tried to control their fear of certain death. One muttered a soft prayer to Zeus. Hurriedly, Odysseus fetched some beeswax from below deck and deftly cut it into small pieces, distributing the greasy clumps among his soldiers. All of them, even Perimedes, eagerly grabbed the insignificant little lumps and stuffed them in their ears, their last hopes riding on the soft wax. Only Eurylochos, but a boy when they had left home, hardly capable of carrying his shield, and now a full grown man with a thick black beard and broad shoulders, who had seen nothing of the world but war and sea, waited with blocking his ears. Instead, he walked Odysseus to the mast, and with help of two others, tied him to the mast with though ropes. With his hands behind his back, his ankles bound together and thick rope pressing him to the mast at his hips, chest and neck, Odysseus could hardly move a muscle.
Checking the knots one final time, Eurylochos then moved to stuff his ears, when Odysseus caught his eyes with a smouldering gaze.
"Whatever I say or do, don't let me go." He said grimly.
Eurylochos smiled weakly. "Don't worry, boss. We're don't want you to die just yet."
Odysseus just nodded in response, resting his head against the mast, eyes closed. What if I was wrong about Circe after all? He pondered, fear tightening his throat. He, himself, had looked death in the eye too many times to be scared of it, but he feared for his men, and doubted his choices. He could not bear the thought he had sent them all to their doom, leaving their wives to wonder why their husbands never came home.
Ah, no use to worry about that now. Whatever happens, will happen, and I'll be too late to change it. Still, he added a silent prayer to Athena, then turned his head to the isle that now loomed up of to port-bow.
Stone columns and rocky cliffs were all he could see for a while. Then suddenly, the wind died down, and their next breath was not filled with salty fresh air, but with the acrid, sickly scent of decomposing flesh and rotting organs. Their nostrils flared, and Odysseus saw the fear burn in his men's eyes as they hastened to the oars, rowing at an inhuman pace. They all knew that scent. Years spent on a battlefield engrave the scent of death in a man's mind.
As the ship cut through the waves fast as a dolphin, the rocky shores gave way for a broad bay, filled with a grassy meadow. Flowers of exotic beauty flourished in the grass, but none paid heed to the flowers. The gasps and screams of terror were lost to all but Odysseus, but he did not register.
Settled comfortably in the grass we're two monstrous beings, women with cruel fangs covered by lips coloured red with blood, gnarled claws with gore still stuck under the fingernails. Their legs were dry and scaly, ending in wicked talons rather than feet. Feathers sprouted from their arms, forming twisted wings, and bodies and bones were scattered around them, the soft grass dotted with piles of half-eaten corpses, some still recognizable, some no more than a pile of exposed flesh and gut. But the worst were their eyes; huge, orange eyes lacking the sclera, were directed right at him, burning with hunger and greed.
A small, terrified noise escaped his throat, ready to swell to an all-out scream. But then red lips parted and fangs flashed, as the sirens started to sing.
The world suddenly disappeared to Odysseus. A sweet voice filled his ears and heart, inciting warmth in his entire body. He did not understand the words, for they were not of any language he knew, and he doubted if they belonged to a human language at all. The song, however, still spoke to him more clearly than it ever could have if it were his native tongue. The siren sung of the flowers and the sun, of the spring and the summer, of life and joy, in a lilting, cheerful melody. Then a second voice joined in, weaving another melody that perfectly complemented the first. The voices dropped and the song slowed, as the sirens mourned their solitude, their loneliness, and their wish for others to join them on their island. Entranced, Odysseus stared at the sirens, his fear dispelled by their music. Around him, everything was a blur, and he did not see or hear his men or the sea, nor did he smell the decomposing flesh. All he heard was the song, all he smelled were the flowers, and all he saw were the sirens, beautiful, enthralling beings of air and sea, wilder than a thunderstorm, more ruthless than a tidal wave, and simply more than any human women could hope to be. Eager to accompany them, he meant to step forward, but frowned as he found coarse rope restricting him. Immediately however, the scowl was swiped from his brow, as the music laced around him and filled him with peace and happiness, until it felt like his heart would burst of joy. His eyes shot back from the ropes to the sirens, to their lush hair, gleaming bronze feathers, smooth white skin and beautiful, wonderful sparkling eyes of fire. Again Odysseus strained to break free, the sirens encouraging him with their song. We know who you are, Odysseus, they sang, quickening the pace of their melody. Son of Laertes, Ruler of Ithaka, Hero of Troy, King among Kings. Come here, join us. Mere rope is not enough to hold back a man like you, strongest and most cunning of all men and gods. Free yourself, Odysseus, so we can tell you all that is and all that well be, here on this bed of flowers. Free yourself! The air rang with the volume of their voices, as the intricate melody picked up pace and strength, the sirens chanting of the wild winds and untamed fire, of unstoppable seas and of the fierce freedom they had on their island, restricted by no one, defied by no one, trifled by no one. The feral hymn made his blood boil, sent it searing through his veins like lines of liquid fire, and his heart cried out for him to join the sirens, even if he had to tear his soul from his tied body to get there.
He trashed against the ropes, muscles cording with the strain of his effort.
"Untie me!" He shouted, throwing his weight against his bonds. One or two of his men looked up, met his crazed eyes, then quickly turned away not to look up to him again. Odysseus howled, raging against the cords. "Untie me," He roared again, fighting the lines digging into his flesh. The mast creaked.
Finally, Perimedes and Eurylochos stirred, hurrying towards him. Fierce triumph burned in his chest as they tended to the ropes. But his cry of victory became one of outrage as his friends tied him down with even more rope, then set back down at the oars, rowing with all their might. A red haze blocked his vision as he struggled and writhed in his bonds. The ropes cut deep in his skin, dishevelling his wrists, ankles and neck, tearing his tunic and the skin beneath. Even with blood dripping down his hands he did not cease his efforts, desperate to join the sirens. They sang softly now, chanting of a happiness even greater than the that offered in the Isles of the Blessed. If only he'd come, come closer. The melody shifted to a heart-breaking lament. Why are you leaving us? Do you not want to stay? Do you not want to join us and relieve us of our solitude? Abandoning his fruitless attempts to break free, he hang limply in his bonds, staring wide-eyed and unseeing at the wooden boards between his feet as cold despair overtook him.
A final crescendo, a forlorn cry for him to turn back pierced his heart. He screwed his eyes shut in pain, tears rolling down his cheeks.
"Please," He whispered, "Let me go."
But his companions did not hear, and they remained rowing with all their strength until the crashing of the waves swallowed up the siren's song.
The wind abruptly returned, filling the slack sails until the fabric was drawn taut. With a collective sigh, the men collapsed at the oars, breath coming in ragged gasps, their skin gleaming with sweat and their hands bloodied and blistered. Several cast suspicious looks at the island behind them, already several miles away. Anxiously gazing at his companions, one reached up for his ears. He unplugged the beeswax, hands quivering at his head, ready to stuff it back in if he caught the slightest trace of a melody. A relieved smile lit up his face as he heard nothing but good, healthy sounds, of the wind and the waves and the creaking of wood and rope. He nodded at his friends, and they too removed the wax with the same caution and then the same relief. Laughter and mirth filled the ship, but it failed to reach the broken figure who hang limply in the ropes that tied him to the mast.
Odysseus did not look up when Perimedes untied him, nor did make a sound when he dropped to the ground, crashing down on the dark wood.
"Odysseus!" Perimedes cried out, as he dove to help his king back up. Odysseus growled something and pushed away from Perimedes, stumbling to the railing of the ship, his back turned to the baffled crew. They exchanged glances behind his back, and in unspoken agreement, tended to the ship and let their leader be, as the sun sunk lower and lower in the sky, until it drowned itself in the glittering ocean.
Tense as a coiled spring, Odysseus stared out over the never-ending ocean, the island of the Sirens no more than a hazy blue fleck on the horizon. Shuddering, he remembered their song, and for a second, he wanted to throw himself overboard and swim back to that enticing melody. He gritted his teeth, and forced himself to think of Penelope, with her curly brown hair, freckles and dimpled smile, Telemachos carefully positioned in her arms, just a bundle of wriggling grabby-hands with one tuft of brown hair, curly like his mother's. He wandered if her brown hair was already changing to silver like his was, and if Telemachos had grown up to be as handsome and strong as he had hoped.
I forgot about them, he realized, wincing at the thought. None of the women I have been with have ever managed that. They could have my body, but never reached my heart. That was for Penelope only. But that song…
Lost in his gloom, he hardly noticed Eurylochos joining him. For several moments, they gazed over the rolling sea in silence, close in body but far-off in mind. Then softly, Eurylochos broke the quiet.
"Odysseus,"
His king didn't show any signs of hearing him for a moment, then he slowly turned his head, eyes barely focussing.
"What did they sound like?" Eurylochos asked.
Odysseus gaze went distant, clouded over by an emotion Eurylochos could not read. Then he snapped his had back to face the waves, focussing on the horizon.
"Like the waves crashing on the shores of Ithaka." He replied quietly.
Eurylochos gave him a searching look, then nodded.
"Let's go home, Odysseus."
"Aye," Odysseus replied, voice hoarse. "Let's go home."