The deck rolled beneath Robin's feet, but he rather enjoyed the feeling. The sound was relatively calm, and when he licked his lips he tasted salt. He jumped lightly on the railing, holding on to one of the many ropes.
From what he had seen, the trireme was perfect. There was a berth for sleeping and the galley was fully stocked with food. The sails and ropes were all in working condition and the wood seemed brand new, without any rotting or stained places.
"Beautiful, isn't she?" someone asked. Robin would have fallen off the ship in surprise if he hadn't been holding on. As it was, he slipped and nearly lost his balance. A freezing breeze gripped his arms and then was gone.
Robin turned and looked down onto the deck. In the bright, direct sunlight he could just barely make out the ghostly shape of a man. The man was tall and broad with shoulder length, slightly curly hair and leather armor. Robin could just make out a few colors on the stranger, but the sun blanched most of the colors out.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"You should know," the man laughed, a harsh sound. "You read me out of the poem, didn't you?" Robin stared at him, swaying back and forth with the movement of the ship.
"Odysseus?" he asked.
"The one and only," the ghost smiled. "You know, I always loved this ship. I named her the Penelope."
"This is the Black Pearl," Robin told him. "What are you doing here?"
"Your voice called me and my men out of the Underworld," the long-dead man said, looking around the ship. Robin glanced around with sharp eyes and saw, to his astonishment, the ghostly figures of the crew. They looked like no more than the shimmer of air on a hot day, but he could see them wandering about the deck, checking the riggings and tightening the knots of the ropes. "Someone has to captain your Pearl," Odysseus remarked.
"I... I did not mean to read you from your rest," Robin told him, jumping down onto the deck.
"I don't think they mind," Odysseus remarked. "Most of them were wandering in Asphodel Fields. They are glad to be back on the sea."
"You know, there are a great many people nowadays who hate you," Robin told him. "Your tricks and wiles were admired by us Greeks, but not by the Romans." Odysseus looked sad and nodded, not questioning who these Romans were. But then again, the dead knew all things.
"I regret many of the choices I made," the ghost sighed. "Regret, but would not change."
"They hate you for the killing of the infant prince, Astyanax," Robin said somberly. Odysseus looked pained at the memory: once, long ago, Odysseus had been a hero of the Trojan War. When the Greeks had taken the city, Odysseus had demanded that Hector's infant son, the heir to Troy's throne, be cast off the walls of his city.
"I regret that most of all," Odysseus said. "But it was necessary."
"Do you regret it because of your punishment for it?"
"No. It was a decision I never wanted to make. But again, a necessary one. Troy could not be allowed to rise again."
"Troy did rise again," Robin told him. "It rose and fell four more times."
"But not in my life," Odysseus said. "And not in the life of my son. That is what was important."
Robin did not contest. He had read too many epics to contest. Besides, he had always secretly agreed with Odysseus.
"So you will be with us this entire journey," Robin asked.
"Only you can see or hear or feel us," Odysseus told him.
"Feel you?" Odysseus reaching out a transparent hand and touched Robin's shoulder. It went numb with cold until the ghost removed his hand. Robin could now tell that the freezing cold he had felt when he'd nearly lost his balance on the railing had merely been Odysseus trying to steady him.
"We will always be here on this ship until you are finished with us," Odysseus told him. "But we cannot go ashore. Give me one of your arrows and I will give you a gift."
Robin reached into his quiver and gave Odysseus an arrow. It was an eagle fletched one. Odysseus took it and Robin was surprised to see that, though Odysseus did not seem to be able to touch him properly, he could hold the arrow. But then, his men were able to touch and move things all around the ship.
Odysseus looked over the arrow and nodded; whether in satisfaction, approval, or simply acknowledgement, Robin could not tell. Then, without warning, the ghost lunged forward and brought the arrow down sharply. A long jagged cut was gashed into the back of Robin's hand. It began to bleed profusely, seeping down his hands and dripping off his fingertips.
"What was that for?" Robin demanded.
"It was a gift," Odysseus told him. "You can have your arrow back if you make that scar vanish."
"The arrow will come back, anyway," Robin retorted, pressing his other hand to his wound, starting to panic slightly. It was bleeding very heavily.
"Not this time," Odysseus grinned.
Robin's quiver had been given to him by Apollo. It never emptied and the arrows always returned, cleaned, after their use had been filled (that is, once the opponent was killed or pulled the arrow out). But the way Odysseus held Robin's eagle feathered arrow, one of only three he had in his quiver, his head cocked to the side; it made Robin sure that the arrow wasn't coming back anytime soon.
Robin retreated to shore, still clutching the hurt hand. Will bandaged it up, asking how he got it, and Robin quickly made up a lie about a loose nail. Will looked worried and wanted to have Robin see a doctor and get something called a "tetnus shot". Robin had never heard of needing to be shot just for cutting oneself on a nail; in fact, it seemed rather counterproductive. Will settled for given Robin a little ambrosia. He'd also prepared a first aid kit, the one thing the Black Pearl was lacking.
"Hey, that's kind of weird," Will said as he was wrapping the bandages around Robin's hand.
"What?" Robin asked tiredly.
"Oh nothing, it's just the the cut looks a little like an arrow," Will shrugged. Robin looked down and saw that Will was right. But when the son of Apollo turned Robin's hand slightly and the shadow of the bandage fell over it, the gash looked more like a feather.
A/N: Footnotes:
Trireme: Greek war vessel
Penelope: the actual name of Odysseus original ship
Astyanax: son of Hector and Andromache. If he had been allowed to live, he could have raised Troy once more and sought vengeance for his father's death. People really do still hate Odysseus for this (*ahem*, my Latin teacher), but like Robin I've always been fond of the wily hero
Romans view of Odysseus: they disliked him, for he was crafty as a Greek and preferred his tricks to fighting an outright, noble battle. While Greek texts refer to him as "cunning Odysseus", Romans always called him "cruel Odysseus".
"The dead know all things": largely considered to be true, as heroes would sometimes call the dead forth to hear prophesies (e.g. Aeneas's departed father told him of his descendants to come, including Augustus Caesar who would not be born for another 700 years)