Murkey
Only by a miracle did Odysseus escape Charybdis. The Earth Shaker had mercy on them, humble soldiers. Only he and his men were left of the marvelous fleet that had sailed, all those years ago, to Troy.
For days they sailed, twenty to be exact. Night and day they were at watch fearing some other obstacle from the Gods.
On the eighteenth day there was storm, the Earth Shaker brought a tempest so fierce it blew the warriors' ship off course, in the direction of the island Murkey.
Two days later the crew landed on the Island of Murkey, ruled by Jordan, son of the great ugly God Hephaestus. Though his father was unfortunate in his appearance, the son was blessed with his mothers' complexion and disposition.
Though the son of a God, Jordan was a cruel man, a slave driver. He horded his stores of wine and grain, putting himself above all others. Though many had cast curses upon his damned souls the greater Gods could do nothing while he was under the protection of his father. The God of sky had no rule over this particular mortal. His feared bolts were crafted by Hephaestus and the one time that, the greatest of all Gods, Zeus, tried to change the heart of the cruel Jordan, his bolts did not show themselves when he went to his storeroom. The ironworker had taken all of the God's stores and refused to craft him anymore until Zeus promised to leave the slave driver, Jordan, alone.
The great warrior Odysseus and his men lay strewn across the sand in a cove located on the south side of the island. Their ship was is shambles, beyond repair. The men lost hope. The brave soldiers who had seen so much gave up. They had heard legends of this island, of its ruler. No one had landed on this island and come out alive.
The great, kind Odysseus saw his men's despair. He wanted to have hope, but even he did not know how this was going to end. They had escaped from the Cyclops, survived the six-headed monster, charged through numerous storms, and won the Trojan War.
Odysseus cried out to the Gods in prayer:
"Oh great Gods, Zeus, Athena, have mercy on this poor soldier's soul. The only desire of his heart, to see his homeland, Ithaka, once more before he is taken into the underworld to reside by Persephone. Give me wisdom on how to overcome this great obstacle. Give me strength to rule my men like a true leader. Show me how get off this cursed island. Send a sign; tell me how to confront this slave driver son of the Goddess Venus and Hephaestus. Give the men strength to heed my advice, to do what I command them. Good Athena, give me the wisdom that you possess. Great Zeus, give me the strength that I lack. "
And so ended the prayer of the great warrior Odysseus.
The men wandered about the beach, praying to their Gods, each a different one. All the rulers listened in pity except the Earth Shaker, Poseidon. He had no sorrow for those men. Those that had blinded his son. He created a storm, one that would wash away all the timber from the destroyed ship, leaving nothing from which to create a fire. The men knew that they had very little time before they would die. Some had heard the screams of the tortured souls.
By night the great Odysseus sent search parties out to scour the land. He begged for any scrap of news about the inhabitants. As Dawn would spread her fingers over the night sky the men would return with no news. The cruel ruler hid his stores and home far out of sight of travelers.
On the fifth day the warrior Odysseus gave the command to march to the center of the island. Men, warriors, trembled in their sandals. They had heard the legends of this island; they did not want to become another one.
King Odysseus sent them forward, leading the way. At midday they reached a stream, stopping to drink their fill. As they lay on the muddy banks they heard the song of the Sirens. Sweet and melodious, they followed the sound, unable to resist. Even the cunning Odysseus was captured by the melody.
They walked until they found themselves at a cave, the opening only revealing a black abyss. Down the men went, hypnotized by the song. The sweet voices led them into the grand hall of Jordan.
The great hall was elaborate; the chair that the ruler Jordan sat in was ornately done in the most precious jewels and plated in the finest gold and silver. Fleeces were draped over the magnificent throne. The walls were adorned with carvings of various times; the dominant scene was of the Trojan Horse. Large tapestries were strewn over the floor like rugs.
The Sirens were dressed in the finest silk and linen tunics, strips of gold woven into the rare fabrics. Their faces were covered with beaded cloth dyed a rich purple. Their bare feet showed anklets beaded with beads that only queens should have.
The ruler sat on his throne, both carved to perfection. His face was handsome, pale skin, dark haunting eyes, hair the color of night. His body rivaled Poseidon; he was built like a God. He was clothed in the finest of linens, fleece lined his sandals. His tunic was the tunic of a king, stolen when he was murdered. Odysseus recognized it to be King Ajax's; he was killed not long after his company left Troy. He must have ended up stranded on this wretched island.
As the men entered the hall Jordan lifted his head from where it had been resting on the side of the throne, the Sirens forgotten. For a long moment he appraised the infantry of men, gazed at each one of them in turn. The soldiers didn't notice the slave driver watching them with a calculating eye. Their attention was taken by the Sirens, only Jordan seemed to be unaffected by them.
The Sirens, though beautiful, had one-track minds, set on destroying men. As they glided forward to take their prey their ruler, Jordan, snared them in his arm. As he whispered to them their faces turned from hungry smirks of triumph to disappointment. Their beautiful faces did brighten again as he reached to the dazed men and plucked three from the crowd that had gathered. The Sirens, being the ladies that they were, hummed their appreciation at the reward as they led the doomed souls back behind a drapery into the heart of the house carved of stone.
As the three were led form the pack and as the Sirens filed out, the remaining soldiers slowly had their senses return to them. As the leader Odysseus became aware of his surroundings he turned to count his men, he was three short. He felt the panic bubble up in him. Never in his life had this warrior been in a situation like this. He took one look at the cruel Jordan, who was appraising them like sheep again, and turned to find the cave entrance blocked off. An iron grid had been lowered over the cave entrance making it impossible to escape unless one took the time to gather many men and lift the gate.
Jordan saw Odysseus puzzling over how to get out of this prison; he saw the warrior knew the fate that undoubtedly was coming.
" I may be a mortal, but my father, iron worker Hephaestus, loves me. He granted me my many talents, strength being one. As your host I feel it necessary to introduce myself, I am Jordan, son of Hephaestus and Venus, ruler of this island. You have come here uninvited. That was not wise. Only fools do not know of the legends of this island, used to terrify children into obedience, slaves into working, and to make wives submissive to the greater of the two species.
For years I have ruled this island and no one has defied me and left my world alive. The strongest of warriors have fought until the death with my - how should I word this - subjects.
You have not asked my permission to set foot on this island, or in my home. You have paid that price in lives, as you will every time one of you oversteps the boundaries.
You will do as I say, eat what you are given, work when you are told, and worship whom I tell you to worship. You have no life here, no free will, I am your master and you will obey me."
Odysseus, navigator of the sea and wise king, knew not to cross this man, this monster. He ordered his men to drop their weapons, lay then at their feet. Jordan smirked at this show of submission as the crew members mumbled in outrage at their kings' show of submission. Jordan, with a clap of the hand, ordered eight women slaves to take up the weapons and throw them off of the crag, into the raging ocean, on the other side of the island. As the men watched their arms disappear from before them they lost hope, one man at a time.
Months they spent under the hard hand of Jordan, working, serving, and dying. The ship of men, which had started with eighteen, was now down to six. Three a month were taken from the group to sate the Sirens or for entertainment for the cruel ruler and his companions. He laughed as the strongest of warriors from the ship fell in the ring, with little fight. Jordan himself trained the gladiators that they had been put up against. They were taught to be ruthless, to use any tactic to win, even to cheat.
The surviving six soldiers were worked to the ground, herding oxen, tilling the ground, hewing out new room in the cave. Up at dawn and to bed well after the sun had set, they were no longer the men that they had once been. They were submissive, they did not have the will to fight back, they were broken. Another month went by and the underworld gained three more souls. The beautiful Sirens took two while another was used for an impromptu feast for the dogs.
Three trapped souls were left, among them the king Odysseus. Once a grand man he was broken and beaten, no hope was left in his being. He had watched as his crew was killed, slain, murdered before his eyes. Many times had he tried to leave the island, only to be stopped and later punished. He bore may scars from those beatings.
He was working out in the field when he saw the master come out and look over all the captives that he had, many had stumbled onto the island and had not been given the release of death yet. He selected five out of the ten men working in the field that day; two of them were Odysseus's men. He watched as the remaining two were led back into the cave to the waiting Sirens.
He looked out to the horizon, silent tears coursed down his worn face, mourning his lost men. He turned his attention back to the work in the field when he heard another worker walk up beside him. He plowed the ground until dusk. He went in to finish hewing out the new room for the house made of rock. Hours later he was thrown his dinner, bread and water, and sent back out to the field to eat, the master Jordan had guests staying at the time. He and the other slaves sat on rocks jutting out of the newly tilled field as the picked at their food, dreaming about home and escape. The great warrior, the king, the navigator of the seas, lost hope; Odysseus saw no end in sight.