“Appease the Gods?” asked Homer. “Are you suggesting your enslavement is a punishment because your clan offended the immortals?”
“Not only my enslavement. Almost every last one of us died, you know.”
“Men die. For most, it is our only lasting skill. Compared to Gods, this is the one sphere where we can surpass them.”
“Yes, we die, but seldom in such a string of violence and disastrous fortune.”
“That needn’t be the work of Gods. We often manipulate our own deaths, expiring savagely through greed and lust and sheer folly.”
“You’re right. But Gods must let it happen. They like to watch our weaknesses play out. They tip us toward madness, then gamble on the outcome, so it’s said.”
“Said by whom?”
“Why, by my father, naturally. He may have been a poor man, but he was very wise. He knew about these things.” Nerissa stopped and turned to Homer. She touched him lightly on the arm. “But I sense that you are even wiser. Doubtless you could have predicted what would happen to my family as our journey progressed.”
“Why, where did you go next?”
Nerissa set off down the road again, her step deliberate, making sure the poet followed as she began to speak:
A north wind blew us strongly through the gloomy day. When the weather cleared toward evening, Father spotted a small island. As he sailed around it, I noted that its shape resembled an overturned boot. Father said he recognized the place from boyhood, when his own father anchored in its leeward harbor during a fierce storm. This was Tenedos, he told us, a perpetually windy isle sacred to Apollo.
Father led our four remaining ships back to the seaward side where we sailed into a shallow bay. It was a low, flat island, overgrown with tangled thickets. We saw no farms or fishing boats. But Father thought there was a small settlement to the east. At least there had been in Grandfather’s time. He remembered a shrine to Apollo that the inhabitants maintained on a small hill above their village.
We anchored in quiet water, then waded into shore. Since the rain had stopped, we were able to spend a dry night on the beach.
In the morning, we cooked a breakfast of dried pompano. We had no hearths to bake bread here. No clay kilns to put over a fire, either, not even a domed cover to hold in enough heat to let the maza cook into a loaf. But at least we had our eating knives.
Along the forest’s edge, Mother found sprigs of mint to season the pompano. She also found some wild grapes. They were very tart, but unusually large for so early in the season. I accompanied her, as I liked to do when Mother gathered herbs. These were the only times when I felt valued by her. She’d even smile at me as she passed along her knowledge. But, I wasn’t feeling well on Tenedos. When we returned to the beach, I lay down while Mother and my aunts prepared our meal. I helped them serve the men, just as we’d do at home, but when it was our turn to eat, I felt so bloated, I couldn’t swallow a thing.
I watched the smoke from our cooking fire curl up to the sky. I thought about my dead brothers, Euredon and Kestides. My five dead cousins, too. I wept uncontrollably, unusual for me. I tried to hear their voices in the smoke. I only heard the cry of a circling eleonora. The gulls and gannets rose up from their teeming colonies to harass the hungry falcon. The sky filled with their shrieks.
It was no use. I couldn’t hear my kinsmen’s shades. Maybe they’d already completed their journey to the underworld. If they were anywhere above the ground, it wasn’t within earshot of Tenedos.
As I gazed into the smoke, my belly clutched with pain. I felt nauseous as I stood. It hurt to straighten up, but I couldn’t lie down, either. I staggered toward the forest, not wanting to retch in front of my family. It was then I saw another column of smoke rising above the trees. It was much fainter than ours, appearing like a thin gray line of writing against the soft blue of the sky.
Though I felt no better, I knew it was my duty to tell Father at once. I cleaned my tearstreaked face, composed my expression as best I could, and went to him. Father studied the smoke intently, but didn’t seem alarmed. After speaking with my uncles, he told everyone that it appeared to come from a single hearth. It wasn’t thick enough to be the mingled smoke of many fires. And Tenedos wasn’t large enough for it to rise above a settlement, seen from far away.
“It must be that only a few settlers remain from the town my father and I visited when I was young,” he said.
“That suits us well,” said Uncle Clemon. “There won’t be enough of them to mind our presence.”
“I agree,” said Uncle Xolon. “This bay makes a safe anchorage and there’s no redness in the sea. If we find fish this morning, we should stay.”
“Let’s investigate the smoke before we work the water,” said Father. “I want no repeat of trouble.”
“You’re right, Asclemelion. We can’t afford another Imbrus.”
After a short discussion, Father led most of the men inland. Uncle Xolon stayed behind because Aunt Irene insisted he must rest his injured shoulder. Andrastus also stayed to protect the women and children with his bow.
Noticing that I looked very pale, he asked me what was wrong.
I didn’t want to answer. I didn’t know, myself. But I felt strange and fearful. There was an awful wrenching in my gut. I felt my entrails were about to burst. Like those split open by an oracle, I wondered what they’d say about our fate.
I blurted an apology to Andrastus, then reeled into the forest. I felt wetness sliding down my thighs. I stopped and stared at it in horror. It was dark, clotted blood, though nothing had cut me. I thought that I was dying, that corruption was bursting my insides. That my failure to save Euredon or to warn Father about Kestides's bride-raid were dooming me to die in agony. I knew nothing yet about the transformation that turns girls into women…
Forgive me, sir. I can see that you don’t want to hear this. Though I’m new to Ithaca, I should have guessed your customs would be similar to ours. Women mustn’t speak to men about such things. But the problem was that no one had ever told me about it, either. Mother was far too prim a woman. And I had no older sisters.
But I was fortunate in one thing. Aunt Melissa noticed my hunching run into the woods. She caught up to me, then held me close. When my shaking eased, she led me to a stream that we could hear nearby. She knelt by the water’s edge, wet a piece of cloth she’d brought, and cleaned my legs. Then she showed me how to wrap a second strip of cloth. Speaking softly all the while, she explained about Selene’s chariot and the female curse of monthlies. But also their great boon, for only when they start can women conceive children. When they stop in later life, it’s no cause for joy, she told me, because women become old and barren at this time.
As we returned, she advised me to heat pebbles in our fire, wrap them in a cloth, then tie it around my back to ease the cramps. She also explained that if there was a month when Selene didn’t visit while I was still unmarried, I must jump up repeatedly, touching heels to buttocks as a way to dislodge the seed.
I didn’t know what seed she meant, but I understood about the heated stones. When I went to do this, Aunt Melissa spoke to Mother. We exchanged a glance, but that was all. I didn’t go to her. I knew she wouldn’t comfort me. She’d just say something like, “Panthematon mathemata.” She didn’t have to tell me sufferings are lessons. I’d learned this very well.
Mother left the beach immediately. Now I’m old enough to realize that she must have gone to collect herbs. She meant to make a soothing poultice, surely. But at this moment, all I could think was that she was ashamed of me. Either that, or jealous. It occurred to me that Mother hadn’t quickened in three years. I remembered Aunt Melissa’s explanation. Mother must be one of those women who’d turned barren as she aged.
Our men didn’t return all day. Mother didn’t, either.
We were very worried, and it turned out we had cause. Mother limped into our camp the following afternoon. Her robe was torn by brambles, her face heavily scratched, her left knee badly swollen.
She told us that she’d heard sounds of revelry the previous morning. They’d startled her as she searched for the sort of boggy meadow where a certain yellow flower grows. She’d followed the noise, which lay in the same direction as the smoke. When she came near its source, she saw a lonesome cottage in a sunny clearing. Peering from behind an oak, she saw our men behaving just as swine. They rolled in the mud, they swilled large quantities of drink and food, they made disgusting noises, they sniffed around a female, drooling in their lust.
“This woman is a powerful enchantress,” Mother said. “I don’t mind admitting she’s the most striking specimen of female grace I’ve ever seen. She doses them with potion from her kettle, singing all the while. I watched until they’d drunk themselves into a stupor. Then the sorceress made Clemon kneel, so she could use him as a seat. I’m pretty sure she chose him because he’s the fattest. She nestled back against his bulk, oblivious to the many rumbles coming from his stomach. Soon, Clemon fell asleep in this position, snoring loudly. Smiling with contentment, the enchantress worked her loom for the rest of the evening, never tiring or faltering, as if she were great Athena, Herself.”
“Did she discover you?” I asked. “Is that how you were hurt?”
“No, I was careful to stay silent. I didn’t dare creep away, for fear I’d snap a twig. I had to wait until she went into her cottage. But by then, it was too dark to make my way back here, so I settled down to sleep. I spent a fitful night, but I hoped by morning I could rouse your father, and he’d know what to do.”
“Did he?”
“He had no chance. At dawn, the woman came outside, began to sing again, then ladled more potion into their mouths. All except Clemon, that is. She raised him to his feet, and kissed him on the lips!”
“She what?” demanded Aunt Melissa in a voice of outrage.
“You heard me. She kissed Clemon like a lover.”
“Why would she want him? He belches constantly and rarely bathes. Besides, his face is like a pig’s.”
“Maybe that’s why,” said Mother. “I told you, she made them all act just like swine. I think it’s what she favors in a man.”
“She can’t have him. He’s mine!”
“I also want mine back,” said Mother. “He’s led us into one disaster following another, but he’s all I have.”
“Yes, ours, too,” agreed my other aunts. “And our sons.”
“We’ll have to rescue them,” said Mother. “It’s enough we’ve each already lost our eldest.”
“And Euredon,” I said.
I felt furious at Mother. She’d always favored Kestides, her firstborn. Could she really have forgotten that Euredon’s death was the event that launched so many troubles.
“Of course,” said Mother. “I meant him, too.”
The women and older girls set off inland, armed with cooking knives. Despite his wounded shoulder, Uncle Xolon went with them, carrying a gaffing pole. Because of my bleeding, I was told to stay behind and watch the children. I protested that I wanted to join the fight. On Imbrus, they’d seen how well I use a sling.
“You’re forbidden from men’s presence for the next five days,” Mother told me sharply. “That’s how it’s always been for women. For those who care about their dignity, that’s how it must remain.”
“But Mother--”
“Not another word!” Though Mother never raised her voice, it was a shaming reprimand in front of all the others. “Now that you’re a woman, you need to pay great heed to propriety. Especially during your moon time. Far-winged Selene has a powerful effect on luck, Nerissa. If you disobey and follow, as we all know you’re inclined to do, you risk dooming the men to live out their lives as swine.”
Glumly, I remained behind. Andrastus also stayed, his bow the children’s sole protection now. I couldn’t speak to him, or even sit beside him. He was a man, initiated into their ranks two years before. Besides, I had to seek the trees’ protection, where I might fasten a new rag between my legs. I blushed darker than well ripened cherries as Andrastus watched me go. I prayed that he knew nothing of what prompted my departure.
When I came back, I felt a little better. It pleased me that I was a maiden now. No shapeless girl without a way to interest Andrastus, I could wear a sashed peplos. And though my breasts were little more than bumps, that day they felt very tender as if they’d swollen overnight. Maybe they’d soon grow enough to fill out the peplos’s bodice.
Feeling shy, I looked down as I approached the fire. I noticed that my hips looked round. Walking through the powdery sand was making them sway. I smiled softly to myself. I risked glancing up to see if Andrastus had noticed that my shape was no longer a straight line.
But he was looking out to sea, where many cormorants were diving in the water. It irritated me, of course, though I had to admit the fishing birds were a great spectacle. They plunged like arrows shot from Mount Olympus. The cormorants almost always came up with a fish speared in their beaks. Naturally, this would interest Andrastus.
So I let my pique evaporate in the bright sun. I began to tell the little ones the story of Icarus flying too close to fiery Helios, melting his waxen wings, causing him to plummet from the sky. But I soon grew very tired. Though they begged for another tale, I had to lie down in the sand and shut my eyes.
When I woke, it was late afternoon. None of the adults had returned. I could see by Andrastus's worried expression that he’d heard no news. Though I knew I mustn’t speak directly to him, I announced loudly to the children that I was going in search of all our kinfolk. Before Andrastus could object, I used a scrap of sailcloth to collect stones from the beach, knotted it with the cord that bound my hair, and stepped into the forest. This time, I made every effort not to sway.
I had a great deal more energy after my nap. I kept a fast pace, easily following the path. I saw signs everywhere of the adults’ passage -- footprints, broken twigs, bent saplings.
After an hour, I came to a sunny clearing. In it, many flowers bent before the breeze. Like the blood that soaked my rag, they were dark red. These aren’t the ones Mother went looking for, I thought. They can’t do a thing for cramps. Nothing but make you sleepy, full of dreams.
I recognized what they were, you see. In Smyrna, we’ve long known of poppies, because of traders from the east. I hadn’t realized that they grew to the west, as well. But here was a broad field. It was so large, a farmer could have harvested enough sap to fill ten amphorai, each a metrete in volume. As you probably know, this sticky resin is where the poppy’s magic lies. But the flowers have a sort of magic, too. As I passed through the field, their pungent scent made me long to close my eyes again. I had to fight away the urge to lie down and breathe deep.
I raced through the field without taking another breath. After reaching a stand of laurel on the far side, I had to sit down on a log. I chanted a long prayer to the dryad spirits of these trees for help. When I finally recovered, I saw that blood was flowing down my thighs again. This time, it was a brighter red. I’d lost my cloth back in the poppies. But nothing could persuade me to return and get it.
Instead, I used laurel leaves to sop the blood. They served poorly, doing little more than smearing redness across my skin. After granting my prayer, I don’t suppose the dryads of these trees appreciated such wastefulness. Feeling sticky, sore, and edgy, I tore another strip from my frayed tunic to wrap as Aunt Melissa had demonstrated.
By now, very little cloth covered my legs. Brambles tore at my thighs as I continued, adding to the streaks of blood. I feared a snake would strike me on the calf. Just before I came to a tangled patch of cedar roots, I saw a scuffed place in the dirt. This must be where Mother had tripped and twisted her knee. She’d never said what had set her running from her vigil at the cottage.
I was very close by now. I could almost hear what the men said in their drunken laughter. I could smell wood smoke coming through the tangled forest. It scared me that I couldn’t hear any voices of our women. I feared the sorceress had killed them. After setting a stone into my sling, I made every effort to be silent as I crept through the thicket. The light was dim, the air heavy with moisture. I had no idea how I’d manage to defeat a powerful witch and rescue my kinsfolk.
A scant arm’s length in front of me, someone stepped from behind a gnarled cedar. My heart lurched so hard against my ribs, it hurt just like a knife had stabbed me. I had to choke off a scream rising in my throat. I was so scared, I couldn’t breathe.
But nothing happened to me. I saw it was a young man, about the age of Nikos, who’d turned eighteen that spring. Like Nikos, too, this youth was very muscular. Now smiling, the youth held out his empty hands. His gesture told me plainly that he meant no threat. Still, I held my loaded sling in readiness as I studied his face.
Even in the gloomy atmosphere, I could see he was extremely handsome. I’d never encountered such a radiant face on a man. His features almost seemed to give off their own light. I remembered Father telling us this island was sacred to Apollo.
“Are you a God?” I asked.
“No,” he answered with a laugh. “I’m a man like any other. Why do you ask?”
“You seemed to appear from nowhere. And you’re, well--” I felt deeply uncomfortable. Never mind the proscription about speaking to a man for the next five days. There was no way to tell him just how beautiful he looked. And here, my own appearance was an absolute disgrace. I was in rags, blood-smeared, with filthy strands of limp hair clinging to my face. “That is to say, you don’t look like the other young men I know.”
It sounded so weak an explanation, I felt heat rushing to my face. I could only hope he didn’t see me blushing in this murky light.
“Why? How am I so different?” He seemed to be enjoying my discomfiture. “A beauty like you, I’d wager a handsome sum you have well-favored brothers.”
“I have brothers, yes, and they’re all attractive in appearance, but nothing like--” I felt so embarrassed, I couldn’t finish. Now I blushed so strongly, my own face must be glowing, too. “Why do you pay me compliments? I look like the dog’s dinner, today.”
“No, you look like a mountain nymph, heading for a spring to bathe after the hunt.” He smiled gently at me. “How I’d dearly love to be there.”
I blushed again. There was no way I could answer his suggestion that he’d like to see me naked.
“It’s curious you praise me as an Oread, when you’re the one who has Apollo’s face,” I said.
“I’m only a farmer’s son. I wouldn’t lie to one so fair and innocent as you.”
“Then what are you doing in the forest? Doesn’t your father need you?”
“We make extra money selling herbs. I was collecting marjoram nearby. The sort that grows on Tenedos, it’s famed across the wide Aegean… And you, what are you doing here?”
“I came to rescue my family. The witch whose fire sends smoke above the trees ahead, she’s captured them.”
“She’s no witch. She’s a slaver named Circe.”
“A slaver? What do you mean?”
“Just that. Circe captures people and sells them to a trader from Kos who visits once a year. To keep them tranquil, she doses them with a tonic made from poppies. Alone, she’s been responsible for stripping half this isle’s population.”
“Why don’t you band together to overpower her? She’s just one woman, isn’t she? Mother said nothing about henchmen.”
“Circe doesn’t need them. We’ve tried to kill her, but she’s defeated our best fighters. Most of us who remain on Tenedos are terrified of Circe. That’s why few dare come into these woods. These days, she mostly captures unwary visitors. She doesn’t even have to fight them. She appears so comely in men’s eyes, they feel fortunate to stand in her presence. She offers them a feast, complete with great quantities of drink. It tastes as sweet as ambrosia, but leaves men stupefied for days.”
“You seem to know a lot about her.”
“I do. I was one of her captives.”
“How did you avoid being sold to the slave trader? Were you her favorite? Did you trick Circe into thinking that you’d marry her?”
“She paid me no attention.” Again, the young man laughed. “She kept a fat shepherd as her lover.”
“Oh. I guess it’s true what Mother said. She must prefer men that way, like Uncle Clemon… So how did you escape?”
“I think it was the moly.”
“Moly -- what’s that?”
“A kind of wild onion that grows on Tenedos. It’s another herb I collect. There’s lots of it nearby, including a patch beside the captives’ pen. So one day when Circe let us out to feed, I pulled a bulb and ate it. Moly has a very pungent flavor, but I’m used to it since my family eats it often. That evening, when Circe dosed us with the tonic, it had no effect on me. I pretended to be drunk like usual, but the moly had blocked the tonic’s power. When Circe began to embrace the fat shepherd, I slipped into the forest.”
“Maybe the moly will work for me. I can wait for darkness, creep up to the pen, and feed it to my kinfolk. Where can I find this herb?”
“I have some with me.” The youth reached into his sack, brought out two bulbs, and gave them to me. “Take one bite now and tuck the rest away. But a rescue in the darkness has no chance of success. Circe sits out all night with her weaving. What you need to do is step into her clearing in the daylight. She’ll move to the attack, but don’t resist.”
“Why? Because I’m just a girl?” I felt so insulted, my cheeks blazed with heat. “I’m fiercer than I look. My sling’s defeated brawny men.”
“I’m sure it has. I wasn’t impugning your martial prowess.”
He had the good sense not to laugh this time. I swear I would have marred those handsome features with a rock.
“But force can never defeat Circe,” he continued. “Though her beauty has no power over females, she’s invincible in a fight.”
“What about men? There must be champions stronger than her.”
“I’ve seen her easily disarm the greatest warriors. One expert with the javelin had his missiles turned against him no sooner than he’d thrown them. Circe caught four in a row and hurled them back, pinning his limbs against a massive elm. I’ve even seen her parry a slingman’s stones by flicking both ends of her staff.”
“Then how can I rescue my family?” In truth, I was in no condition for a fight. I felt tired, weighted down, and overwhelmed. But the last thing I wanted was to admit this to the handsome youth. “She must have some weakness that I can attack.”
“There is one way,” he said. “When Circe raises her staff against you, don’t fight back. Put down your sling, and let her dose you with the potion. But before you step into her clearing, you must eat moly first. This way, your senses will remain sharp. When Circe locks you in the pen, wait for her to go inside her cottage with your uncle, then give moly to the others. The next time you’re released to feed and drink, all your family can escape.”
“All right, I’ll do exactly as you say. Thank you so much for advising me. I don’t even know your name.”
“It’s Tenes. Named for our isle’s founder, a distant ancestor. My father honors him, because he died valiantly in battle many generations past.”
“By the Aechean warrior Achilles, wasn’t it? At the time of the Trojan War. My own father loves to tell this story.”
“Indeed. I’m cursed to bear a hero’s name, and me a simple farmer.”
“Yes, a hero’s name, and a God’s face. I call that no curse, Tenes.” Now I didn’t blush. I looked straight into his sea-green eyes. “Since you’ve paid me the honor of sharing your name and counsel, you should know I’m called Nerissa. Named as a tribute to the sea sprites. My little Nereid, that’s what my father often calls me.”
“Ah, so I was right. You are a nymph maid, after all.”
After taking leave of Tenes, I ate one bite of the moly. It was so strong in flavor, my mouth felt like it had burst out in flames. I felt thankful that Tenes couldn’t smell my breath. I had nothing to drink, and heard no rivulet nearby. I feared that Circe would easily detect the moly’s reek, so I plucked some needles from an evergreen and chewed on them to mask the stench. Before I reached the clearing’s edge, I spat them out. As Tenes had instructed, I made sure to leave behind my sling, as well.
Before I stepped into the sunlight, I paused behind a massive tree. It was a sort of willow, similar to the osiers we use for basketry back home. As I watched the clearing, I ran my hands over the woven pattern of its bark. I knew that I was stalling, but this was a fearsome task for one so young as I. Even had I felt my best, the scene in front of me was far beyond my competence to fix.
I saw my kinsmen rooting in the dirt. They all were smeared with mud and grease. They roared with strange noises, making no sense that I could interpret. They bickered over acorn husks. Apparently, Circe fed them on mast, as one does with a herd of hogs. But just as quickly as they fought, they hugged each other, beaming blissful grins. Then fell to slurping from a trough. What Mother had reported that morning was no exaggeration. Our men were acting just as swine.
Meanwhile, my aunts and female cousins slept inside a pen. Mother was in there, too, snoring, drooling, completely disarrayed. Of all the things I saw that day, I think this was the greatest shock of all. Only the most powerful of witches could have made my rigid, always proper mother take the form of a wine-besotted slattern lying in the mire.
I must have made a noise, because Circe noticed me. She stood up from her loom and advanced rapidly, brandishing a thin staff. Now I felt certain that Mother had been right and Tenes wrong. She was indeed a witch. The staff looked just like the yew wands they say sibyls use to cast their spells.
Still, Circe looked nothing like a witch. She was tall, with an exceptionally regal bearing. Her hair was sleek and amber-colored, curling gently on her alabaster shoulders. Her eyes held the glowing blue that sometimes appears in a warm sea at night. Her soft smile seemed genuinely benevolent. She was easily the most stunning woman I’ve ever seen. If Tenes had the features of a God, Circe was the Goddess that all Olympus looks upon with awe.
I stood entranced. I couldn’t have raised my sling if I still had it in my hand. I made no resistance as Circe led me to the trough and bade me drink. She didn’t require me to get down on all fours, but handed me a cup.
I drank the potion, and sighed with pleasure. It tasted like a mixture of milk and honey and strong wine. The sweetness masked the poppy’s bitter sap. I took another drink, then drifted toward Father. He didn’t seem to recognize me. None of my kinsmen did. My legs shaky now, I reeled toward the women’s pen. Outside its locked gate, I lay down in the dirt and slept.
At least, I pretended to sleep. I was tired from Selene’s visit and my long trek through the thorny forest, but the moly had done its work, so my intoxication was a sham.
About three hours later, I heard female voices. Two of my aunts were talking, but it was a babble to my ears. From their pen, I began to hear more voices, Mother’s loudest among them. I’d never heard her raise her voice before that day. On this occasion, Mother’s tone was anything but self-possessed. She was calling out to Circe. I understood the name, but little else. The sense was clear, however, from the direction of Mother’s gestures. She wanted more of the potion.
Presently, Circe let them out to feed and drink. Instead of acorn mast, she gave them corn. Now it was the men who slept in their own pen. Except for Uncle Clemon, who I didn’t see among them. I supposed that Circe had given him a soft bed in the cottage. We were allowed to eat and drink our fill, relieve ourselves in a shed that covered a deep pit, then Circe locked us back inside the women’s pen. When it grew dark, I fed bits of moly to Mother and the rest. Still under Circe’s spell, they didn’t understand what it was for, but they were all so pliable, it wasn’t hard coaxing each of them to chew.
The next morning, they’d come to their senses. They complained of pounding headaches, but I was able to explain the plan. We all drank from the trough, then pretended to reel off in a stupor. When Circe shut us back inside the women’s pen, I’d already jammed its lock with a bit of cloth. After Circe released the men to feed and drink, I waited for her to go inside with Uncle Clemon. Then I crept out and went around to each drunken man. I tickled their chins until they laughed, then tossed bits of moly into their open mouths. I stroked their throats until they swallowed.
The next day, all of them were sober. I told Father what had happened. He urged everyone to fl