Valerio Mafredi - The Oath

Mentor had told me that Parnassus was the place most beloved by the god Apollo, who lived there with the Muses. How had my grandfather dared to build his palace on a peak so high it challenged the mountain of the gods? Why had Apollo tolerated it?

As I approached manhood, my father turned me over to an instructor who would train me in the art of hunting and managing the hounds. He was a powerfully built man of about forty, greying at the temples, a native from the plains of Thessaly. His name was Damastes. He had been Jason’s shield-bearer on the Argo expedition and in Colchis. I could barely understand a word he said, but he made his will known well enough by shouting and caning me on the back and shoulders. It took me nearly three months to learn to track deer, boar, hare and wild goats, and to begin to master the bow and the javelin. By the time summer came, there was enough hair on my upper lip and cheek to give my face a hint of a shadow.

The eve of the great day arrived in no time: my father had chosen the summer solstice. That night my mother came to my room and told me a strange story: ‘Tomorrow you’ll be going to see your grandfather. Well, do you remember when you were little, and you asked me how I met your father? You wanted to know more and I told you, “Not yet. I’ll tell you when you are old enough to understand.” Remember? Well. That time has come. There’s something you need to know.’

My mother had a cold light in her eyes when she began speaking again. She said: ‘I was a young girl myself when one night, as I was sleeping soundly, I was woken by strange noises coming from a room that I’d always been forbidden to enter. I’d only been sleeping by myself, in my own bed, for a bit longer than a year, and I was terrified. The noise sounded like a muffled growling or snarling, as if a big animal were trapped inside and trying to escape. I made my way down the corridor without making a sound until I realized that the door to the room was half open and that the moon’s rays were streaming through. Even though I was scared to death, I felt compelled to look inside. I saw something that I’ll never forget. My father was writhing on the floor like a wounded animal. The growling I had heard was coming from his own mouth. His limbs were covered with coarse hair. At that moment — maybe because he’d felt my presence — he leapt outside. I ran to the window and saw a wolf crossing the courtyard and disappearing into the forest.’

I wanted to ask her if she was certain she hadn’t been dreaming but I already knew the answer: if she’d decided to tell me now it was because she thought that what she had seen was real.

‘I wanted you to know. Now you decide whether you want to depart on this journey.’

‘More than ever, mother,’ I answered.

‘Then I have something for you to give my father. There’s a message inside.’ Saying thus, she held out a small clay amphora. It was tiny, fitting in the palm of her hand.

‘I’ll give it to him from you, mother.’

She gave me a hug and a kiss and turned to go back to her bedroom.

The next day it was my father who woke me and walked me down to the port.

‘You’ll leave alone, like a man,’ he told me. ‘You will journey by sea and then by land, until you reach the palace of Autolykos. .’

‘He himself is a wolf,’ I repeated in my heart.

‘You will find your way up to the eagle’s nest. You’ll enter the wolfs lair.’

Everyone came to the port to see me off: my parents the king and queen, my nurse Euriclea, who was weeping and wiping her eyes with a handkerchief, Mentor, who was cross because he could not leave with me, Damastes, who gave me three javelins and girded a dagger at my waist. It was sheathed in a bronze scabbard with fine silver decorations, the work of a craftsman from Same who had presented it to the king.

‘Your grandfather will surely take you hunting, which is the only pastime befitting a king or a prince,’ said my father. ‘He likes to hunt boar because it reminds him of a dreadful beast that was brought down by all the greatest kings and heroes of Achaia together: the boar of Calydon. A monster, he was. A gigantic, bloodthirsty specimen with enormous tusks, keen-edged as swords. He will certainly tell you the story even though he himself was not invited to the hunt. . the only king to be excluded, I believe.’

We were waiting for the wind to turn, favourable to filling the sail and taking the ship out of the port. The sky was clear and cloudless, the sun was mirrored in the gulf as if by a polished silver plate. Oh, Ithaca. .

‘The boar was killed by Meleager of Aetolia, one of my comrades on the Argo,’ added Damastes. ‘Beware, a boar is one of the most dangerous animals on earth. It is lightning swift and when it charges it can mow down any obstacle, even a horse five times its weight. When the hounds close in, a male can easily disembowel them all with his tusks. If you hear one coming, seek cover and get ready. . If you see it coming from a distance, use your bow: you may not kill it but you’ll slow it down, and when it comes into range hurl your javelin with all your might.’

‘Take care, my son,’ said my father and he hugged me. I kissed my mother and she held me tight. Euriclea would not stop crying.

‘Stop your weeping, mai, that’s bad luck!’

The helmsman nodded to me as the sailors were hoisting the sail and I jumped onto the ship. My mother’s eyes were moist as well but she maintained her dignity. As the ship took off from the shore she said to me: ‘Remember the message I gave you for my father!’

‘Of course I will!’ I answered and waved goodbye to her.

My first journey.

I was leaving Ithaca for the first time. I would see the mainland approaching, feel the sea crashing against the stones on the shore and who knows what else. How small the king and the queen and all the others were becoming as we moved out into the open sea!

The wind remained in our favour and before night fell we dropped anchor in a little natural harbour.

‘That’s your grandfather,’ said the helmsman, pointing to a man on the shore. He was grey-haired but his body was lean and muscular. He wore a raw wool robe with a leather belt and was armed with a sword and spear. Flanking him were two warriors taller than he was, with long black beards, bushy eyebrows and hairy arms. I jumped out and walked over the pebbles and then on the sand towards him.

‘Wanax, you who possess this land,’ I said, ‘I am Odysseus, son of Laertes who rules over Ithaca. I’ve come because fifteen years ago you invited me to go hunting with you.’

‘Where did you learn to talk that way, boy?’ he replied. ‘You sound like an old master of ceremonies. I know who you are and I’ve been expecting you. I’m your grandfather and that’s what I want to be called. These are two of your uncles, brothers of your mother. Come now, dinner is waiting.’

We got into a chariot as the sky was darkening and the sea becoming streaked with purple, and set off on a path that led up the mountainside. A fierce sadness welled up inside me because I was riding off with strangers whom I’d never met before. I couldn’t help but think of the palace where my parents and all the servants lived, of the dinner that my nurse would prepare for me and set on the table. But then my curiosity at meeting these people and seeing places I’d never seen before won out.

‘Don’t you have anything to say to your grandfather?’ asked Autolykos. He was sitting in front of me, but didn’t turn around.

‘I’ve waited a long time for this day,’ I answered.

‘Why?’

‘A man who makes an invitation fifteen years ahead of time isn’t an ordinary person. And if that man is my grandfather, it means a part of him is in me and I’d like to know which.’