Valerio Manfredi - Odysseus - The Return

Time passed. Voices could be heard outside.

‘What’s happening, Polyphemus?’

‘Has someone attacked you? Thieves? Have you been robbed?’

‘Who has hurt you?’

Other cyclopes, similar to him in size and savagery.

‘No One has hurt me!’ he shouted. ‘No One has attacked me! Help me!’ he roared like a wounded beast.

Long moments of silence. We kept completely still and held our breath.

‘If no one has hurt you, then there’s nothing we can do for you! It’s a plague that only the gods can cure. Pray to your divine father for help. Try to rest. Tomorrow you’ll feel better.’

Their footsteps faded into the distance and my heart laughed in my chest. I savoured the taste of revenge.

The flesh-eating monster wept and wept, all night long, but I thought of my comrades buried in his stinking bowels and I could not rest. I still wanted to hurt him any way I could, more than I already had. But I repressed the seething rage in my heart because my work wasn’t over. For a long time he slumbered, seeming nearly dead, but then he would wave his arms and legs around wildly hoping to snare us in case we’d moved close to get a better look. But I made sure that the men stayed as far away as possible and let no one approach him.

Dawn finally showed her face and a ray of light poured through the ceiling to illuminate the cavern. The cyclops stumbled slowly to his feet, groaning, so that his bulk completely blocked out the light streaming in from above. His dark shadow covered us all. The sheep and goats had begun to bleat more and more loudly, because they were hungry and thirsty. They were used to going out to graze when the sun rose.

Moved to compassion for his flock, the monstrous shepherd groped around until he found the boulder that sealed the entrance to the cave and he moved it. Light flooded into our prison, the tomb of all our hopes. It was I who had opened the cavern door, my mind that commanded the arms of the colossus.

As the sheep began to move out, the cyclops lowered his hands to make sure that we were not trying to slip out among them. He patted each animal, recognizing it by its fleece.

I had assembled my men and told them the plan I’d devised for their escape. We took the ropes made of palm fibres that were lying about the cave and with the help of Trasimachus I trussed the sheep together three at a time and then slung a man under the belly of each middle one. I bound Trasimachus as well, and then watched them all slip out from between the giant’s legs as he let his flock through.

I was last to leave, hidden under the belly of the big ram, clutching his wool. I realized that this was the fulfilment of the prophecy my mother had made when I’d returned from my first hunting party with grandfather Autolykos; I felt sure I could follow my companions out. But this was instantly cast into doubt when the cyclops recognized the ram and began stroking him gently: ‘How is it that you are last to leave, dear old friend? You would always run out first to lead the sheep to pasture and today you are the last. Are you sad for your master, who can no longer see the light of the sun?’ His hands lingered on the deep fleece and more than once his immense fingers brushed my own. My heart trembled thinking of the fate that would befall me if he caught me. I would not even have the time to grasp my sword and slay myself; he would make sure that I suffered all the agony that a man can suffer at the hands of the most cruel of torturers. This time my anguish was even more acute than when, from a crack in the hollow belly of the horse built by Epeius, I spied the fiery torch held by Laocoon, priest of Troy.

But he allowed the ram to pass and I finally let myself drop to the ground. I got up and hastened to join my companions who were waiting for me. We ran down the path that led back to our ship. When we reached the seashore we embraced one another in tears. For me they were like brothers or sons for whose lives I had long feared. The joy in my heart was great because I had not failed them; I had snatched them from an atrocious death. I’d returned them to the light of the sky, the scents of the earth, the colours of the sea. The last to embrace me was Trasimachus, the man who had eaten the red flowers.

‘You’ve given me back my life, wanax Odysseus. And now, my king, take us home!’ he said. I grasped him tightly and could not hold back my tears. One after another we all boarded the ship, myself last, and we cast off the moorings. My crew were bent hard over the oars, so anxious were they to leave that accursed land. At the prow, I was keeping a watchful eye on our course when I spotted the cyclops at the top of a cliff, leaning on a tree trunk the way a shepherd leans on a staff when guiding his sheep. My shipmates had seen him as well and were rowing with all their might to distance the ship as quickly as possible from the shore.

But I could not hold back, at the sight of the monster who had held us in his thrall. I yelled: ‘Cyclops!’

My voice echoed like thunder on the sea.

He heard me and wheeled around to try to understand where my voice was coming from. My comrades implored me to keep silent, in vain.

‘Cyclops!’ I shouted again. ‘You disrespected the sacred laws that protect guests by devouring my comrades and you’ve paid the price for your savagery. If someone one day asks you who blinded you, tell him that it was Odysseus, son of Laertes, king of Ithaca, destroyer of cities. It is I who took the light from you!’

My words infuriated him. With brute force, he ripped off the peak of the mountain he stood on and hurled it into the sea. The huge rock fell just in front of our prow, raising a huge wave that pushed us back towards land. The men were terrified that the threat we had just escaped would engulf us again. They set to their oars with renewed vigour, but Polyphemus flung out another and even heavier boulder which just missed the ship, landing in the wake of our stern. The billow it created pushed us out on the open sea and towards the island.

I could hear the giant’s voice in the distance. He was imploring his implacable father, Poseidon, to avenge him, but his words could not touch me, not yet, so great was my joy at that moment for having freed my friends and delivered them from a horrible death, and so deep was my grief at seeing the still oars and empty benches on my ship. The taste of the vengeance I had just inflicted was strong and bitter. Not even the blue god who the giant claimed as his father could heal him.

I let out the triple cry of the kings of Ithaca, shrill as the scream of an eagle.

The echo of Polyphemus’ ranting rang in my ears for the whole stretch of sea that separated us from the low island and stuck in my heart like a freezing blade.

When we went ashore on the island, we learned that our comrades had been struck by foreboding when we failed to return. Eurylochus had readied a strong combat unit with archers and heavily armed warriors to set off for the mainland in search of us. But the great exultation that greeted us soon faded when it became clear that a number of the men who had set out with me were no longer with us. In so many years of war the bonds between the men had become very deep. They’d always protected one another on the battlefield and every fallen comrade represented a wound in their hearts that wouldn’t be healed. It was like they were all members of the same family.

The men had not whiled away their time in our absence — they’d hunted, and captured a good number of wild goats. They were divided up, and we included the sheep we’d managed to carry off from the cyclops’ flock. In all, the crew of each ship were allotted ten animals, with eleven for me, out of respect.