1. THE ODYSSEY - The Entire Story

[music] [music] 2,800 years ago in the hillside villages of ancient Greece, a blind poet known as Homer produced two works. that would become the foundation of Western literature. The first, the Iliad, chronicled the siege of Troy, where great heroes like Achilles and Hector fought for their survival in the most epic battle of the Ancient world. It told the story of Helen, the most beautiful woman to have ever lived, and of Adysius, the cleverest of the Greeks, whose plan to enter the city through a giant wooden horse ultimately brought the war to an end. His second

work, The Odyssey, would tell the tale of Adysius and his journey home, where he would face horrors beyond any battlefield. Far from the grand conflict of the Iliad, this work would focus on a Husband trying to return home, a father desperate [music] to see his son, and a man using his wits to survive in a world where the gods themselves conspired against him. But what kept the cleverest man in Greece from reaching home for 10 long years? Who was the Cyclops whose curse doomed Adysius to wander the seas? How did he survive the sirens whose

sweet songs no man had heard and lived to tell? Why was Adysius compelled to descend into Hades itself and converse With the spirits of the dead? Why did the goddess Athena love him while Poseidon, Lord of the Seas, wanted him dead? And throughout these trials, what of his wife, Penelope? How did she hold off over a hundred suitors who invaded her home, consumed her wealth, and demanded she choose one of them to marry? I'm David Renul. This is Deep Dive History and you're listening to episode 1, The Odyssey. Prologue. the wooden horse. But Odysius had

never wanted to go to war. When the Greek kings summoned their allies to sail against Troy to reclaim the Spartan Queen Helen, who had been stolen away, the Herald, who arrived at the island nation of Ithaca, found its king behaving like a madman. Odysius was plowing his fields with salt instead of seed, yoking an ox and a donkey together, and muttering nonsense to the clouds. It was the first of the many Schemes he would become famous for. Odysius had no quarrel with Troy and no desire to leave his family for a war that might last

years, with him knowing that no kingdom could be asked to send a madman to battle. His wife Penelope watched from the doorway to their palace, holding their infant son, Tmicus, understanding her husband's desperate scheme and sharing his determination to keep their family whole. But the herald, Palamedes, Suspected this sudden madness was too convenient. To test him, Palamedes snatched baby Tmicus from his mother's arms and placed the infant directly in the path of the plow. Without hesitation, Odysius yanked the plow aside to avoid crushing his son. In that instant, Adysius had revealed his sanity, and caught

in his own clever deception, would have no choice but to honor his oath and sailed to Troy. Even in this failure, the Greeks saw that his Reputation as the cleverest among them had not been exaggerated, as here was a man who had been willing to feain madness to avoid a war he knew would be long and terrible. For a decade, Adysius fought beneath Troy's legendary walls, seemingly impregnable fortifications that had been built by the gods themselves. Every morning, he would wake in the Greek camp on the beach, the salt air reminding him of Ithaca's shores,

and marched to Battle, thinking of the son, who would not recognize him, of the wife, whose face grew dimmer in memory with each passing season. The goddess Athena favored him above all others, for she saw in him a warrior who valued cunning over strength, wisdom over glory. She whispered strategies in his ear, guided his arrows to their marks. Sometimes in the chaos of battle he would feel her presence as a sudden clarity of thought, a perfect Understanding of where to strike. Yet even with this divine favor, the walls of Troy would not fall. Not to

Achilles fury, not to Ajax's strength, not to the thousand ships and their countless warriors. After 10 years of constant warfare, as both armies neared exhaustion, Odysius sat alone on the beach one evening, watching the sun set behind the eternal walls. His mind, always turning, conceived a revolutionary new plan. One that would See the city taken without having to breach its walls at all. We will build a horse, he told the Greek leaders that night in Agamemnon's tent. A horse as tall as a temple, made of mountain pine, and ships timber. We will offer it as

a gift to the gods and the Trojans themselves will bring it through their gates. The construction took three days. The wooden beast rising 30 ft high on the beach. Its hollow belly was fitted with Hidden breathing holes and a trapdo concealed so well that even knowing it was there, it was nearly impossible to spot. On the final night, Odysius led 29 of Greece's finest warriors up the rope ladder into the horse's belly. They carried water skins and cloths to muffle any sound. The ladder was pulled up, the trapdo sealed from within. When dawn broke, the

Trojans found the beach empty. The Greek ships were Sailing away on the western horizon. Only the great horse remained, standing alone on the sand. After heated debate, after prayers and celebrations, the Trojans dragged the wooden offering through their gates. That night, as Troy celebrated its victory with wine and song, Odysius and his men descended from the horse's belly in silence. Killing the few guards not at the celebrations, they opened the gates from within, achieving in one night what had Been impossible for over a decade. As they did so, the Greek fleet, having returned under cover

of darkness, poured through into the sleeping city. By dawn, Troy was a smoking ruin. Odysius had accomplished through cunning what strength alone could not achieve. He had ended the war. As he stood at his ship's prow weeks later, watching the Anatolian coast fade into memory, Odysius believed the worst was behind him. He had survived the war, Outwitted his enemies, and was finally sailing home to Ithaca, to Penelope, and to the son who had lived his entire childhood without a father. But the gods were not finished with the man who had destroyed Troy. His journey home

would take as long as the war itself. He and his crew would face creatures more terrible than any Trojan warrior. They would sail to the very edge of the world, even descend into the underworld Itself to face the spirits of the dead. It was to be a journey so epic, so filled with wonders and horrors that its tale would be told for thousands of years. Wherever ships sail and stories are shared, this is how Adysius, the cleverest of the Greeks, would finally come home. Part one. Tammicus. For 20 long years, Tmicus had waited for his

father to return from Troy. Every Night as the sun sank behind the western mountains, the boy would make his way down to the rocky shores of Ithaca. There, perched on the same weathered boulder where fishermen mended their nets, he would stare out into the vast expanse of water, scanning the horizon for a black hullled ship flying Ithaca's banner. The waves would lap against the stones beneath his feet, and the salt water would sting his eyes. But still he Waited, hoping to see his father's ship come over the horizon at last. Whenever a merchant vessel or

fishing boat pulled into port, its hull creaking against the wooden pier, young Tmacus would rush down from the palace, his kiteon billowing behind him. Before the sailors had even secured their mooring ropes, the prince would be there, breathless and eager, asking for news of the war in Troy. The weather-beaten men, their skin Darkened by years under the Mediterranean sun, would look down at this earnest child with his mother's dark eyes and fine features. They would tell him tales to make his young heart race. They spoke of gods walking among mortals, of Achilles fighting the river

god Scamander himself, the waters rising up in fury to drown the Greek warrior. But every time, no matter how thrilling the tale, Tmacus only wanted to hear of one man, his father, Adysius. When the sailors realized who they were speaking to when they saw the boy's eager expression, they would shift their stance and lower their voices. "Your father," they would say, leaning in close enough that he could smell the wine and salt fish on their breath. Your father is the cleverest man in all the Greek army. They would tell him of his heroic tales of

how Adysius's clever schemes had saved the Greeks countless times over. Soon, however, as autumn Turned to winter and winter to spring, stories began arriving from across the sea that Troy had finally fallen. The Greeks, they said, were sailing home at last, their ships heavy with Trojan gold. Tmicus, just 10 years old, felt his heart sore. He would stand on those same weathered docks from dawn until dusk, his eyes straining against the glare of the sun, as he waited to finally meet the father, who he had heard so much About, but had never truly known. But

soon, days stretched into weeks, and weeks ground slowly into years. Ships arrived bearing news from every corner of the Greek world. Menaus and Helen had made it back to Sparta, while wise Neestor had returned with his sons to Sandy Pyos, where he now spent his days telling stories of the war to anyone who would listen. There was only one man who remained missing year after year, season after season, his father, Odysius. At first, the merchants and traders who passed through Ithaca spoke hopefully of storms and delays, of the many islands between Troy and home, where

a man might stop to repair his ships. But as time wore on, their tone changed. Men started whispering in the harbor taverns that the king of Ithal was dead, that his ship had been lost in a storm, or that he had fallen prey to pirates or sea monsters. At first, Tmicus refused to believe it. He would argue with these men until his face turned red, defending his father's reputation with all the fury a boy could muster. But as the years ground on, as his voice deepened and his shoulders broadened, even Tmicus began to doubt. On

those same rocks where he had kept his vigil, he would sit in silence, no longer scanning the horizon, but simply staring at the endless empty sea. It was then that the suitors began to appear at Adysius's palace. They came First in ones and twos, the younger sons of minor nobles, testing the waters. Each man, convinced of Adysius's death, looked to marry his wife, Penelopey, and claim the throne of Ithaca for themselves. They would arrive at the palace gates, dressed in their finest robes, bearing gifts of gold and ivory, making pretty speeches about protecting a widow

in her time of need. Penelope, still deeply in love with her missing husband, refused to accept that Adysius was dead. She would stay faithful to him throughout those lonely years, though the weight of maintaining this hope grew heavier with each passing season. She would reject each suitor as they came, politely, but firmly, always finding some excuse or delay, but soon what had started as a trickle turned into a flood. The sons of every important noble on the island began to arrive. And then nobles from the neighboring islands, too, all hoping to Secure their place on

Ithaca's throne through marriage to its queen. Before long, the palace was overrun. The suitors, numbering over a hundred, installed themselves in Adysius's own halls. They stayed day and night, treating the palace as their own personal tavern. They slaughtered Adysius's cattle and sheep for their feasts, draining Ampha after ampha of his finest wine, the vintage he had been saving for his return. The great hall, Which had once hosted kings and heroes, became a scene of debauchery. Their demands for Penelope to choose one of them grew more insistent by the day. They would corner her in corridors,

block her path in the courtyard, their requests turning to demands. She knew that she could not resist their pressure forever. A woman alone, even a queen, had little power against so many men, who recognized no authority but their own desires. Penelopey, however, had developed a cunning that nearly matched even that of her missing husband. To keep the suitors at bay, she announced that she would indeed choose a new husband, but only after she had completed a sacred duty, weaving a burial shroud for Adysius's elderly father, Leertes. It would be impious, she declared, to remarry while

this duty remains unfulfilled. When old Leertes dies, he must have a Shroud worthy of a king's father. Every day she would sit at her great loom in the upper chambers, her fingers working the threads with extraordinary skill. The suitors would sometimes climb the stairs to watch her work, seeing the shroud grow longer and more elaborate with each passing day, its patterns depicting scenes of heroism and glory. They grumbled at the delay, but could find no fault with her reasoning. But every night when the palace finally Grew quiet and the suitors lay drunk and snoring in

the hall, Penelope would creep back to her loom by lamplight. With tears running down her cheeks, she would unpick all the progress she had made, pulling out thread after thread until the shroud was no longer than it had been that morning. For three years she managed to maintain this deception. The suit is too drunk and careless to notice that the shroud never seemed to be near to completion. Until finally, inevitably, she was betrayed. One of her own maids, Milantho, who had taken one of the suitors as a lover, crept up to the chamber one night

and saw her mistress at her secret work. By morning, every suitor knew of the deception. They confronted Penelopey in the great hall, their faces red with rage, demanding that she choose a husband immediately or face the consequences. With her deception uncovered, Penelope Was at a loss. The suitors gave her until the next harvest moon to make her choice. It appeared that she would have to pick a new husband before the year was out, condemning herself to a marriage she despised, and betraying the memory of a man she still believed, against all reason might yet return.

Tmicus, meanwhile, had almost given up hope entirely. It was now 10 years since Troy had fallen, 20 years since his father had left for war. The boy himself Had become a young man, tall and lean, with his father's strength beginning to show in his shoulders and arms. Yet he felt powerless. The suitors were destroying his palace, devouring his inheritance day by day like locusts in a grain field. They treated him with open contempt, pushing him aside in his own halls, mocking him when wine loosened their tongues. All hope, it seemed, was lost. Unknown to Tmicus,

however, he was not The only one thinking of Adysius's return. Far above the mortal world, up on Mount Olympus, where the stars hung close enough to touch, a great debate was playing out in the golden halls of the gods. Athena, goddess of wisdom and war, stood before her father's throne. Her gray eyes, the same color as a storm tossed sea, blazed with a barely contained fury. She had long held Adysius as her Favorite among all mortals. He represented everything she prized in herself, intelligence complimented by action, cunning paired with courage. She had protected him countless

times throughout the long siege of Troy, and now she would come to his aid again. Father, she cried to Zeus, king of the gods. Has Adysius not suffered enough? For seven long years now, he has been trapped on that cursed island of Ajigia in the middle of the endless sea, held Prisoner by the nymph Calypso. He sits on the shore each day, weeping as he stares toward home, separated from all his friends, and desperate to return to the family he has not seen for 20 years. She stepped closer to the throne. Remember how he sacrificed

to you on the broad plain of Troy beside the black ships? Oxen with gilded horns, the finest portions of every feast, wine poured out upon the earth in your honor. Did these sacrifices go unseen? Did the Smoke not rise up to Olympus? Why do you abandon him now in his hour of greatest need? Zeus shifted on his throne. a seat carved from a single block of marble and inlaid with gold. Lightning flickered in his beard as he considered his daughter's words. "Nonsense, my daughter," he replied. "How could I forget Odysius? He is not only the

wisest man alive, with a mind sharper than any blade, but also the most Generous in his offerings to the gods. No mortal has honored us more faithfully." He paused, his expression darkening. No, it is not I who keeps him from home, but my brother Poseidon, Lord of all the seas. For Adysius blinded his precious son, the mighty Cyclops, Polyphimas, driving a burning stake through his single eye. And for that crime, Poseidon keeps him trapped alone in the middle of the sea, turning every wave against him, Every current into an enemy. The hall fell silent for

a moment. Even the minor gods and goddesses who lined the walls dared not speak. The feud between Poseidon and Adysius was well known among the immortals. A grudge as deep as the ocean trenches themselves. But listen here, daughter. Zeus continued, leaning forward on his throne. Odysius has suffered long enough. And as it happens, Poseidon is away, gone to feast with the Ethiopians At the edge of the world. Let us come up with a plan to bring the wanderer back home while my brother cannot interfere." Athena's face transformed, her stern features softening into something approaching a

smile. She bowed her head slightly, a rare gesture of gratitude from the proud goddess. "Thank you, Father. Your wisdom shines like the morning star. She straightened, her mind already working through the details of her plan. Here is what we must do. Send Hermes the messenger down to Ajigia to release Adysius from his prison. All the while, I will visit his son Tmicus on Ithaca and breathe courage into the boy's heart. It will give him the strength needed to stand up to those parasitic suitors who are destroying Adysius's home. Then I will send him off to

the great cities of Pyos and Sparta to learn of his father's fate from those who fought beside him at Troy. Let him build a reputation of his own, so that when Adysius returns, he will find not a boy, but a man ready to stand beside him. With that decided, Athena dove from Olympus, her divine form burning bright as she plummeted through the heavens towards Earth. Like a falling star, she pierced the clouds, whistling past peaks where even eagles dare not fly, leaving a radiant trail of golden mist in the evening sky. The moonlit sea rushed

up to meet her. And She pulled from her dive at the last moment, skimming across the silvered waves, scattering sparks of light across the water until the rocky shores of Ithaca rose before her. When she reached Adysius's palace, she saw the depravity of the suitors firsthand. The great courtyard that had once been kept with such pride was now littered with the bones of slaughtered animals. Wine stains marked the walls like blood. Over a hundred men lounged about as if they owned the place, their feet up on fine furniture, their greasy fingers pouring at the serving

maids. And there, in a corner of what should have been his own hall, sat Tmicus, alone and dejected, his young face drawn with a weariness that belonged to a much older man. The goddess paused at the threshold, considering her approach. Then, in a shimmer of light, she transformed Herself. Her divine radiance faded, her armor melted away, and in her place stood ment friend of Adysius, a sea captain from Tapos, whom the family had not seen for years. She wore the simple woolen cloak of a traveler, carried a bronze tipped spear, and bore the rugged look

of one who had spent many years sailing the trade routes. She approached the boy, who, despite his depressed state, noticed the Stranger immediately. Tmicus rose to his feet, and to Athena's pleasure, he welcomed her into the palace with perfect courtesy. He offered her food and shelter as the sacred laws of hospitality demanded, leading her to a seat far from the noise of the suitors, bringing water for her hands in a golden pitcher, then setting before her the best cuts of meat and the finest wine in the house. His manners immediately impressed the goddess, showing that

his Father's virtues lived on in him despite everything. As they ate and drank together, Athena spoke to him of Adysius. "You have grown handsome, young prince," she said, her voice carrying the gruff tones of the old sea captain. "The gods have been generous with their gifts. You have your mother's quiet dignity. But I see your father in your careful movements, and the way you observe before you act." Adysius had that same look when he was Young, before Troy called him away. But as they continued to talk, the peaceful moment was shattered by a roar of

drunken laughter. One of the shooters had grabbed a serving maid, pulling her onto his lap despite her protests. Another was throwing bones at a cowering dog. Athena's eyes, even in her mortal disguise, flashed with divine anger as she turned to Tmicus, her voice dropping to an urgent whisper. These men are a disgrace, she said. They disrespect the Gods themselves by violating the sacred laws of hospitality. They consume what is not theirs. They abuse those under this roof's protection. They turn a noble house into a common tavern. No self-respecting man would tolerate this. You must find

your father, young prince. You must bring Adysius home at once to deal with these shooters before they devour everything he built. before they force your mother into a marriage that would destroy her." Tmicus looked at the old captain, hope and despair warring in his young face. "I agree," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I have no idea what to do. I am only one man, barely tested in battle. They are over a hundred, many of them trained warriors. And my father, if he still lives, I do not know where to find him.

The sea is vast, and I am just one young man with no ship, no crew, and no knowledge of where to begin. The goddess, disguised as ment, something ancient and powerful. "Listen well, young prince," she said. A voice carrying an authority that seemed strange coming from the weathered sea. Captain, tomorrow you must call an assembly. Summon every man of Ithaca to the harbor where your father once held court beneath the old olive tree. Stand before them with a morning sun at your back and speak with a voice of a king's son. She grasped his shoulders

and Tmicus felt an unusual strength flow into him. Tell the shooters publicly what they already know in their hearts, that they violate every law sacred to gods and men. Command them to return to their own homes, to seek their wives elsewhere. Let all of Ithaca bear witness to their shame. "But they will not listen," Tmicus protested, though already he felt something changing within him, a spark catching flame. "No," agreed the Disguised goddess. They will not. But the gods will hear and the people will remember. After the assembly, you must act swiftly. Find a ship. Gather

20 trustworthy seaman. Sail first for Pyos where aged Nester lives. He fought beside your father at Troy and may have news. From there, continue to Sparta to the palace of Menaaus and Helen. They were the last to leave Troy's shores and might know your father's fate. With that, Menty's moved toward the Door. Tmicus rose to escort his guest, but in the space between one heartbeat and the next, the figure vanished. Where the old sea captain had stood, an eagle suddenly soared upward, its great wings casting shadows across the courtyard. The serving woman cried out in

amazement, and even some of the drunken suitors looked up in bewilderment. Tmicus stood transfixed. This had been no ordinary visitor, but one of the immortals themselves, come Down from Olympus to guide him. The knowledge filled him with a courage he had never known. His back straightened, his chin lifted, and for the first time in years, he looked like what he was, the son of Adysius. That night, Tmicus barely slept. He lay on his bed, listening to the shooters drunken songs echoing through the halls, planning what he would say when dawn came. When the first light

crept across the eastern horizon, he rose and dressed In his finest tunic, one his mother had woven with her own hands, he strapped on his bronze sword, threw a cloak across his shoulders, and stroed down to the harbor. The heralds went through the town at his command, calling every free man to assembly. By the time the sun had finally risen, the gathering place by the harbor was crowded. Old men who remembered Adysius came leaning on their staffs. Fishermen left their nets. Farmers walked in from their fields. Even the suitors came, curious about what the boy

had to say. Tmicus took his place at the center of the assembly, standing beneath the ancient olive tree where his father had once dispensed justice. In his hand he held the speaker's staff, its polished wood worn smooth by generations of hands. The crowd fell silent, waiting. For a moment the young prince felt the weight of all those eyes upon him, and His voice caught in his throat. Then he remembered the eagle, the divine visitor in his hall, and strength flowed back into his limbs. "Men of Ithaca," he began, his voice carrying across the assembly with

surprising force. "20 years ago, my father sailed with your sons and brothers to Troy." "Of all those who left, only he has not returned. We do not know if my father Adysius lives or has perished somewhere on the vast sea. But I know this. What happens in his house brings shame upon our island. A murmur ran through the crowd. The suitors shifted restlessly, their hands moving to their sword hilts, but Tmicus continued, his voice growing stronger with each word. These men, he said, gesturing towards the suitors, have invaded my father's house like a plague. They

feast on his cattle, drink his wine, and pursue my mother with shameless persistence. They consume in a Day what should sustain a household for a month. They treat servant women as their play things. They respect neither the gods above nor the laws of men below. Antinuous, the most arrogant of the suitors, pushed forward through the crowd. He was a tall man with cold eyes and a cruel mouth. Bold words from a beardless boy, he sneered. Your mother has deceived us for three years with her weaving trick. If anyone brings shame Here, it is Penelope who

promises to choose a husband, yet refuses to do so. Send your mother back to her father's house. Let her marry whomever he commands. Until then, we stay. Another suitor, Urimicus, wellspoken and deceptive, stepped forward. Come now, young Tmicus. We mean no true harm. We simply caught your mother, as is our right. Any noble woman left so long without a husband must remarry. It is the way of things. Your father is Surely dead. Accept this truth, and perhaps we can come to an arrangement. Choose one of us as your stepfather, and we will ensure you keep

some small portion of your inheritance." The crowd murmured uneasily. Many thought Uriicus spoke sense, though they feared to say so aloud. But Tmicus stood firm, the morning sun bright on his face, looking so much like his father for a moment that several of the old men gasped. "I will seek news of my father," he declared. "I sail tomorrow for Pyos and Sparta. If I learn that Adysius truly is dead, then my mother will choose her fate. But if he lives, if there is even a chance he might return home, then I swear by Zeus himself

that every man who has dishonored his house will face his wroth. With that, he cast down the speaker's staff and stroed from the assembly, leaving the crowd in shock. The suitors Laughed uneasily among themselves, but something had changed. The boy they had dismissed and ignored for years had finally shown himself to be his father's son. Part two. The boy becomes a man. >> [music] [music] >> That evening, as the suitors returned to their feasting, Tmacus made his way down to the harbor alone. The old fishermen had long since pulled their boats onto The beach, and

the only sound was the gentle lapping of waves against weathered wood. He stood there in the gathering darkness, wondering how he would find a ship and crew brave enough to follow him. "Prince Tmacus," a voice whispered from the shadows. A figure emerged, tall and strong, with gray eyes that seemed familiar, though Tmicus could not place them. It was Mentor, his father's old friend, who had been left in charge of The household years ago, though age had somehow not touched him as it should have. In truth, this was Athena once more, taking another mortal form to

aid the young prince. "Your ship awaits," Mentor said, gesturing towards the harbor's edge, where a sleek vessel sat ready, its black hull fresh with pitch, its sail furled and waiting. 20 good men from the outlying farms loyal to your father's memory have gathered to row you to Pyos. They wait only for your word. Tmicus stared in amazement. Earlier that day there had been no such ship, no such crew. Yet here they were, provisions already loaded, water jars secured, everything prepared for a journey across the open sea. A sailor beckoned him aboard and Tmicus stepped onto

the deck, his heart racing with anticipation. The crew took their positions at the oars. They pushed off as the full moon rose above the mountains of Ithaca. Athena, still in Mentor's form, stood at the Stern and called upon the west wind, who came rushing down from the hills, filling their sail with his breath. All through the night they sailed, the stars wheeling overhead until the coast of Pyos came into view. The city was already awake, for this was a holy day, and King Netor was sacrificing to Poseidon on the beach. Tmicus felt his courage falter

as their ship ground onto the shore. Here was Netor, the oldest and wisest of all who had fought at Troy, a man who had seen three generations of heroes rise and fall. How could he, an untested youth, approach such a legend? Come, said Mentor, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. The old king values courtesy above all things. Speak truthfully, and he will help you. They walked up the beach towards where Neestor sat on a polished stone, his white beard flowing to his chest, his sons arranged around him like pillars Supporting an ancient temple. Despite

his 90 years, the old king's eyes were still sharp as a hawks, and they fixed immediately upon the strangers approaching. "Welcome, friends," Neestor called out before they had even reached him, his voice still strong despite his age. "Come, share our feast, and when you have eaten your fill, tell us who you are and what brings you to Sandy Pyos." They sat on fleces spread upon the sand And ate the roasted meat rich with fat that dripped onto the coals. When the meal was done and wine had been poured to the gods, Neestor turned to his

guests with an expectant smile. "I am Tmicus," the young man said, "son of Adysius, who ruled Ithaca before the black ships carried him to Troy. I seek news of my father. You fought beside him on the plains before those towering walls. Tell me, please, when did you last see him? Do you know his fate? The Old king's face grew sad, and he was silent for a long moment, his eyes seeing not the beach before him, but battlefields 10 years gone. [sighs] "Ah, [gasps] your father," he said at last, his voice heavy with memory. the cleverest

of us all, and perhaps for that reason, the most cursed. We suffered nine long years before Troy's walls, young prince. Your father's strategies saved us more times Than I can count. When Achilles sulked in his tent, it was Adysius who held the army together. When we needed to steal the palladium from Troy's temple, it was Adysius who crept through the darkness to seize it. Neestor paused, accepting a cup of wine from one of his sons. But after Troy fell, after we had burned that great city to ash and divided its treasures, the gods in their

anger scattered us like leaves before a storm. Your father and I quarreled, I'm ashamed To say, about when to sail for home. I left immediately with my ships while he remained with Agamemnon to make further sacrifices, hoping to appease Athena's wroth. The old king shook his head slowly. That was the last time I saw Adysius standing on the beach at Troy. Since then, [laughter] I have heard nothing certain of his fate. Some ships I know were scattered by storms. Others fell prey to misfortune on their journeys home. But Of your father's path across the sea,

I can tell you nothing, for no word has reached me these 10 long years. He grasped Telmicus' hand with fingers still strong despite their age. But this I know for certain. If any man could survive whatever trials the gods have set before him, it would be your father. Never have I seen Athena favor any mortal as she favored him. If she still watches over him, as I believe she must, then there is hope. Yet the gods do not Abandon those they love without purpose. The next morning, Tmicus, emboldened by the old king's words, set out

for Sparta, home of Menaus and Helen. Upon his arrival, he found the palace in celebration, for Menaus was marrying off both his son and daughter on the same day. The courtyard was full of dancers whirling to the sound of liars, acrobats leaping through hoops of fire and tables groaning under the weight of roasted meats and honeyed cakes. Menaus himself Sat in the center of it all, still powerful despite the gray in his famous red hair, his broad shoulders draped in a purple cloak worth a king's ransom. Beside him sat Helen, and Tmicus found himself unable

to look away. 10 years had passed since she had returned from Troy, yet she seemed untouched by time, her beauty still capable of stopping conversations mid word. There was something otherworldly about her, as if she were not quite mortal, not quite Present, her beauty so absolute that men forgot to breathe when she turned their way. More guests, Menaus called out warmly when he saw Tmicus approach. Come and join our feast. There is meat and wine enough for all of Sparta and more besides. The young man was bathed in a silver basin and given a fresh

tunic of the finest Egyptian linen. Only after, when he had eaten his fill, did Menaus lean forward, his keen eyes studying Telmicus' face with growing recognition. You have the look of someone I once knew," the king said slowly. "The set of your jaw, the way you hold your head. If I did not know better, I would say you were the very image of my clever friend, Adysius." At the mention of his father's name, Tmicus could not stop the tears that suddenly burned his eyes. He tried to hide them, raising his cloak, but Helen saw it

all. She rose from her seat and mixed wine in a golden bowl, adding To it a drug from Egypt that had the power to banish sorrow and anger, to make men forget their troubles for a time. "Drink," she said, her voice soft and measured. "Then let us speak of your father without tears, for he deserves better than sorrow." When they had drunk the enchanted wine and felt its warmth spread through their limbs, Menaaus began his tale. "Your father," he said, leaning back in his chair, "Saved my life more times than I Can count. But the

last news I had of him came from an unexpected source." He paused, his eyes growing distant. When we were returning from Troy, my ships were trapped for 20 days on the island of Ferros off the coast of Egypt. The winds had died completely and we were running out of food and water. The king's voice dropped lower, drawing his listeners in. In desperation, I am ambushed Proteius, the old man of the sea, the Shape-shifting prophet who knows all things that were, that are, and that are yet to come. I held him fast as he transformed from

seal to lion, from serpent to tree, from running water to raging fire. But I did not let go, and finally he resumed his true form, and agreed to answer my questions. Menaus looked directly at Tmacus. I asked about all our companions who had not returned home. Most, he told me, were dead. Agamemnon murdered by his Wife. Ajax drowned by Poseidon's hand. But your father, he said, lived still. A Proteius saw him on the island of Ajiger in the halls of the nymph Calypso, daughter of Atlas, who held up the sky. She keeps him there against

his will, where he has no ship or crew to carry him home. Every day he sits on the shore weeping as he looks toward Ithaca, but the nymph will not release him. Tmicus felt his heart race. His father lived, trapped, yes, but alive. "How Long ago was this?" he asked urgently. "Seven years passed," Menaaus admitted. But if Calypso holds him still, she holds him for a reason. The immortals do not easily give up what they claim as their own. That night, as Tmicus lay in bed, his mind churned with all he had learned. His father

lived, but was imprisoned by a goddess. The suitors grew bolder by the day. Time was running short. He needed to return to Ithaca. But what Could one young man do against divine will? As if reading his thoughts, that night, as Tmicus lay in bed, planning his return, Athena appeared beside him, no longer disguised, but shining with her full divine radiance. Take heart, young prince, she said. Even now, my father's use sends Hermes to Ajigia to command Calypso to release your father. Odysius will soon be free to attempt his journey home, but the sea is wide,

and Poseidon's anger runs deep. Your father's journey will be perilous, and he will need a strong son waiting when he arrives. Return to Ithaca. Prepare for what must come. When dawn came the next day, Tmacus rose and prepared to leave. Menaus tried to persuade him to stay longer, offering gifts of horses and chariots, but the young prince would accept only what he could carry on a ship, knowing that time was now his enemy. As their chariot rolled away from Sparta's golden palace, An eagle suddenly swooped from the mountain, carrying in its talons a white goose

stolen from the palace grounds. Helen, who had come to see them off, clapped her hands in delight. A sign, she cried. Just as that wild eagle descended to take the goose, so will Adysius return from his wanderings to take vengeance on those who feast in his halls. Mark my words, young prince. Your father comes home, and blood will flow when he arrives. With Helen's words filling him with hope, Tmacus set off and journeyed towards the coast. toward his ship, toward home. He had learned what he had come to learn. His father lived. The gods themselves

were working to free him. And when Adysius returned to Ithaca, he would not find a boy waiting, but a man ready to stand beside him, ready to reclaim what was rightfully theirs. Part three. Calypso. 10 years had passed since Troy fell. Of the 12 ships that had sailed from Ithaca, all were lost. Of the hundreds of men who had called him captain, all were dead. Now, in the 10th year of his wanderings, Odysius found himself trapped on an island at the very edge of the world, neither dead nor truly alive, held captive by a goddess

who loved him. The island of Ojigia rose high from the sea, surrounded by waters so deep they Appeared black even at noon, its surface thickly forested with cyprress and alder trees. Four clear water springs flowed from a central cave, and wild flowers grew in the meadows below. For any other man it would have been paradise, but for Adysius it was prison. In the great cave that served as both a palace and a bed chamber, lived Calypso, daughter of the Titan Atlas, who holds the heavens on his shoulders. She was beautiful beyond mortal description, With golden

hair and a voice carrying the power of the sea. She had found Adysius years before, washed up on her shores, the sole survivor of his last shipwreck, clinging to a piece of broken mast. She had nursed him back to health, fed him ambrosia and nectar, the food of the gods, and fallen deeply in love with the clever mortal who told such wonderful stories of the world beyond her island. But Adysius, though he shared her bed Each night, though he lived in comfort no mortal king could match, spent his days sitting on the rocky shore, staring

east toward a home he could not see. seaater mixed with his tears as he watched the empty horizon, searching for any sail, any sign that he was not forgotten by the world. Calypso would find him there each evening, his clothes soaked and his eyes red from weeping. My love, she would say, her immortal Hand on his shoulder, why do you grieve? I offer you immortality itself. Stay with me and you will never age, never die. We will live here forever beyond the reach of both fate and suffering. But Adysius would only shake his head, his

voice woeful when he replied, "Lady, you are more beautiful than any mortal woman, more gracious than my wife could ever be. Yet I would rather die attempting to reach Ithaca than live forever without seeing my home again." My son was a baby when I left. He would be a man now if he lives. My wife, Penelope, surely believes me dead. My father, old Leertes, may have already passed to the underworld, never knowing what became of his son. For seven years, this scene repeated itself. Seven years of golden days and lonely nights. Calypso's island provided everything

except the one thing Odysius truly wanted, a way home. But the gods, who had been silent for so Long, finally took notice. Under Zeus's command, Hermes, messenger of the gods, flew to Ajigia's distant shores to deliver his message to Calypso. He found the nymph in her cave, weaving at her golden loom, singing in a voice that could charm the winds to stillness. When she saw Hermes at her threshold, his winged sandals still glowing after his flight, her immortal heart sank. Gods did not visit one another without purpose, and Hermes expression told her This was no

social call. "Calypso," Hermes said, accepting the nectar she offered him, as was custom between the immortals. "I bring word from Zeus. You must release Adysius. Help him build a raft, provision him for the journey, and send him on his way. It is decreed that he will reach the land of the fiats, who will honor him and send him home to Ithaca with gifts greater than any he would have won from Troy. Rage swept across Calypso's features. You gods are cruel in your jealousy. Zeus himself has fathered countless children with mortal women. Poseidon beds whom he

pleases across the earth and sea, but you cannot bear to see a goddess love a mortal man. When Dawn took Orion as a lover, you struck him down with Artemis' arrows. When Deita lay with Aion, Zeus killed him with a thunderbolt. Now you would take Adysius from me, though I saved him from death, Though I offered him immortality itself. But her protests were hollow, and she knew it. One does not defy use and survive, not even an immortal. When Hermes departed that afternoon, Calypso went to find Adysius at his usual spot on the shore. "Your

wait is over, Adysius," she said, though her voice broke with grief. "Your prayers have been heard. Tomorrow you will begin building a raft, and I will help you. You will leave this island to Make your way home at last." Odysius, after so many years of disappointment, could barely believe her words. He searched her face for deception, wondering if this was some new torment. Lady, surely this is a trick. How can a mortal cross the vast sea on a raft? Even ships with 20 oesmen fear these waters. Calypso swore an oath by the river sticks, the

most binding oath any Immortal can make, that she meant him no harm. Only then did Adysius allow himself to hope. For 4 days he labored with the tools Calypso provided. He felled 20 trees, tall alders, and pines that would resist the salt water. He shaped them with an axe and fitted them together with skills learned long ago in Ithaca. On the fifth day, Calypso brought him to the raft, now loaded with supplies. She had prepared everything he would need, skins filled with wine and Water, bags of grain, and preserved meats to last for weeks. Finally,

she taught him to navigate by the stars. "Keep the bear, always on your left," she instructed, her immortal fingers tracing the constellations in the brightening sky. Sail for 17 days and on the 18th you will see the mountains of the Fiaian coast. As Adysius prepared to push off, Calypso embraced him one last time, her tears falling on his weathered neck. "I know your heart was never mine," she whispered. "But remember me, the goddess who loved you." Then Odysius pushed his raft into the waves. The sail filled out with wind sent by Calypso herself, with his

small raft carrying him away from paradise and toward the unknown. Behind him, Calypso stood on the shore, her golden form growing smaller until she was just a glimmer on a distant island that would soon vanish below the horizon. For 17 days, everything went as Calypso had promised. The winds were steady and the sea calm. Odysius barely slept, his hand always on the steering ore, his eyes fixed on the bare constellation wheeling overhead. Dolphins raced alongside his raft and seabirds circled overhead. On the morning of the 18th day, just as the goddess had predicted, he saw

mountains rising from the sea. The land of the friations finally in sight. But Poseidon, traveling back from His Ethiopian feast, soon spotted the small raft sailing through his vast domain. The Earth Shaker's rage erupted when he realized Adysius had escaped Calypso's island. SO, the god roared, his voice making the seas tremble. The other gods conspire while I am away. They would let this mortal reach safety AFTER HE BLINDED MY SON. >> [clears throat] >> NEVER. Zeus may have decreed that he will survive, but I can still make him Suffer. Poseidon gathered the storm clouds with

his massive trident, stirring the sea into chaos. The winds attacked from every direction at once. The east wind fought the south wind. The west wind battled the north. Waves tall as mountains crashed over Adysius's raft, tossing it around like driftwood. The sail tore away with a terrible sound. Then came a groan from deep within the mast itself, a sound that grew louder And louder until crack. The mast snapped and fell into the churning waters. The steering ore was ripped from his hands. All around him was the deafening chaos of the storm. wind that shrieked like

the furies themselves, and waves that boomed like war drums. A great current then lifted the raft toward the sky before smashing it down into the frothing waters. The logs, so carefully fitted, were torn apart. Adysius was thrown into the sea, pulled Down by his waterlogged clothing, the gifts from Calypso now threatening to drown him. He fought to the surface, gasping, only to see another mountain of water descending. He clung to a single log from his destroyed raft as waves tried to tear him loose. Salt burned his eyes and throat, his fingers torn and bleeding could

barely maintain their grip. Several times he went under, sure that this was his end, only to burst back to the surface. But the fates had Declared he would not die at sea. The sea goddess I know, who had once been mortal and knew the terror of drowning, took pity on him. She appeared to him in the form of a seabird landing on his log long enough to speak. "Poor Adysius," she said, her voice somehow clear despite the howling wind. "Poseidon seeks your death, but cannot achieve it. Take this immortal veil, tie it around your chest.

It will not let you drown. Swim for the Fatian shore. When you Reach land, throw it back into the sea. With that, she gave him a shimmering veil, light but strong, then dove back into the waves. Odysius, though suspicious of gifts from the immortals, had no choice. Another massive wave shattered his log, and he tied the veil around his chest and began to swim. For two more days he swam through the gradually calming waters with Poseidon's rage finally spent. On the morning of the third day, as he was near to passing Out from exhaustion, the

rocky coast of Scaria, homeland of the Fishians finally came into view. But the coastline offered no beach, only ragged cliffs that threatened to tear him apart. He swam along the shore, his strength nearly gone, until finally he spotted the mouth of a river. "River God," he prayed, his voice barely a whisper. "Whoever you are, I come to you for rescue. Pity a [laughter] man who has suffered much." The river heard him and stilled its current, smoothing its waters to let him swim upstream. Odysius dragged himself onto the muddy bank, every muscle aching. He untied Ano's

veil and threw it back into the water with a prayer of thanks. Then, naked, exhausted, and caked with salt, he crawled into a grove of olive trees. He covered himself with fallen leaves, hundreds of them, until he had made a nest. There, hidden from sight, barely Clinging to life, Odysius fell into the deepest sleep of his life. Part four, the Fiatians. The island of Scaria was home to the Fatians, a people blessed by the gods, who enjoyed plentiful harvests and had an expert knowledge of sailing. They were ruled by King Alsinuous and his wise queen

Ariti, whose council the king sought in all matters of importance. The day after Adysius's arrival, the gods set events in motion. Athena seeking to Aid Adysius further appeared in the dreams of Princess Norseaya, daughter of Alsinuis and Ariti, taking the form of her closest friend. Noa, the goddess whispered, "Your wedding clothes lie unwashed. How will you ever hope to marry with dusty linens? Go to the river tomorrow with your maids. Take the mule cart and wash everything clean." When dawn came, Nosake awoke with the dream fresh in her mind. She gathered Her handmmaids, young women

who giggled and sang as they loaded the cart with dirty clothes, olive oil for washing, and food for their midday meal. They drove the mules along the coastal path to where the river met the sea, where stone basins had been carved by generations of Fatian women for washing clothes. The girls worked through the morning, treading the clothes in the clear water, spreading them on the smooth rocks to dry in the sun. When Their work was done, they bathed in the river and rubbed themselves with olive oil until their skin gleamed. They ate their meal on

the riverbank, then began to play, tossing a leather ball back and forth, their laughter carrying on the sea breeze. But one throw went wild. The balls splashed into the water near a grove of olive trees, causing the girls to shriek in shock. Their cries woke Adysius from his death-like sleep beneath the leaves. He stirred confused, his body still caked with salt, his mind slowly remembering the storm, the swimming, the terrible exhaustion. Hearing female voices, he faced a dilemma. He was naked, covered only in dried mud and leaves. Yet he desperately needed help. Breaking off a

leafy branch to cover himself, Odysius emerged from the grove like some wild creature of the forest. His hair was matted with brine. His skin was raw from salt water. His eyes were Bloodshot from his ordeal. The sight of him sent the handmaids running down the beach, screaming in terror at this apparition from the woods. But Nosakea stood her ground. Athena had given her the courage to stand firm. As Adysius approached, he stopped at a respectful distance, holding his branch, and spoke with the persuasive voice that had once swayed warriors and kings. "Princess," he began, his

voice, "are you a goddess or a mortal? If you're a goddess, you Must be Artemus herself, so tall and beautiful you stand. If you're mortal, then your parents are blessed to have such a daughter. I am a shipwrecked wanderer cast up on your shores after 20 days at sea. I know no one in this land. I beg you for help for some rag to cover myself and directions to your city. And may the gods grant you everything your heart desires. a good husband, a happy home, and most importantly, a marriage where you truly understand each

other. Nothing could be better than that." Norse, though young, recognized the refined speech of a nobleman, despite his wretched appearance. "Stranger," she replied, "you seem neither evil nor foolish. Since you've come to our land, you won't lack for clothes or anything else we owe a traveler in need. This is the country of the Fatians, and I am the daughter of Alsinuous, our king." She called her frightened maids back, scolding them gently. "This man is a shipwrecked wanderer. All strangers and beggars come from Zeus, and even a small gift is welcome. Give him food and drink,

and let him bathe in the river where there's shelter from the wind. The maids brought Toadius a tunic and cloak from the clean laundry and a flask of golden olive oil. They showed him a sheltered spot in the river, then withdrew while he washed away the salt crust from his skin and hair. When he emerged clean and dressed, Athena made him appear taller and more handsome, his dark hair restored to its natural curl. The transformation was so complete that when Nosakea saw him, she whispered to her maids, "When he first appeared, he looked absolutely terrible.

Now he looks like one of the gods themselves." Nosakea gave him food and wine, which Adysius consumed with the desperation of a man who had not eaten properly in Days. Then, as the sun began to descend toward the western horizon, she prepared to lead him to the city. But being a princess, she was careful to maintain appearances. Stranger, she said, follow my cart to the city, but when we reach the outskirts, wait in the sacred grove of Athena, you'll find there. Let me go ahead to my father's house. We Fatians are proud and quick to

gossip, and I would not have them saying I brought Home a husband from the beach. When enough time has passed for me to reach the palace, enter the city and ask for King Alsinuous's house. Anyone can direct you, even a child, for there is no other house like it. When you enter, go straight through the great hall to my mother. You'll find her sitting by the hearth and the firelight. Clasp her knees as a supplant. If she looks upon you with kindness, you will see your homeland again." With that, she drove the mule cart toward

the city, her maids walking alongside, while Adysius followed at a distance. When they reached the grove of Athena, he stopped and prayed to the goddess while Nosakea continued home. As dusk fell, he made his way into the city, where Athena shrouded him in mist, so no one would challenge or question him. The palace of Alsinuous was magnificent, beyond anything Adysius had seen since leaving Troy. The walls were Bronze from threshold to innermost chamber, with a freeze of blue enamel running around them. Golden and silver dogs crafted by the god Heestus himself stood guard on either

side of the entrance, while inside 50 golden torch holders shaped like young men held burning torches to light the feasts. Odysius walked through the hall, still invisible in Athena's mist, marveling at the wealth and beauty around him. The Fatian nobles sat at their evening meal, Pouring libations to Hermes as they talked among each other. When he reached the hearth, the mist suddenly dissolved, and Adysius appeared before them, his hands clasping Queen Ariti's knees in the traditional gesture of supplication. Guineriti, he said, I come to your knees and to your husband after much suffering. May the

gods grant all of you happiness, and may you pass on your prosperity to your children. But please give me an escort to my homeland Quickly, for I've been kept from my family too long, suffering hardships no man should be forced to endure. The hall fell silent at this sudden appearance. Then Echaneas, the oldest of the Fian nobles, spoke. Alsinuis, it is not fitting that a stranger sits in the ashes by your hearth. Raise him up and seat him properly. King Al-Sinis took Adysius by the hand and raised him from the hearth, seating Him on a

silver studded chair beside his own. Servants brought water for his hands and food for his table. When he had eaten and drunk, Alinuis addressed the assembled nobles. Tomorrow we shall feast this stranger properly and arrange his passage home wherever that may be. But tonight let him rest. The nobles agreed and departed to their homes, leaving Adysius with the king and queen. Ariti studying the clothes Adysius wore recognized them as her own handiwork. A Stranger, she said. Who are you and where do you come from? Who gave you those clothes? Did you not say you came

here wandering over the sea? Odysius, careful not to reveal his identity yet, told them he had come from the island of Ajigia, where he had been held against his will. He described the storm that had destroyed his raft and how he had washed up on their shore. Before meeting Nosake by the river, he spoke warmly of the princess's kindness And good judgment to the delight of her parents. Tomorrow, Alsus declared, "We shall feast in your honor. Then our finest crew will row you home in one of our swift ships. They can reach any destination in

a single day. So skillfully do they navigate the seas." The next day dawned bright over Scaria. Heralds went through the city announcing a feast for the mysterious stranger. The Fiatians, always eager for entertainment And stories of distant lands, gathered in great numbers at the palace. Also sacrificed 12 sheep, ate bo and two oxmen for the feast. The meat roasted over great fires while servants mixed wine in silver bowls. As the feast began, Demodicus, the poet, was led into the hall. The muses, the nine goddesses who inspire all art and song, had given him a precious

gift. They had taken his eyesight, but granted him extraordinary skill in music and Poetry. He sat on his silverstudded chair, his liar hanging on a peg above his head, where he could reach it easily. When the feasting was done, he took down the instrument and began to sing. His first song told of a quarrel between Adysius and Achilles at Troy, how the two greatest Greek warriors had exchanged harsh words at a feast, and how Agimenan had rejoiced secretly, remembering a prophecy that Troy would Fall when the best of the Greeks quarreled among themselves. As Demodicus

sang, Odysius pulled his purple cloak over his head and wept as he remembered all the friends he had lost. He tried to hide his tears from the crowd, but Alsinuous seated next to him saw his distress and quickly called for dancing and a different song. Demodicus switched to a lighter tale. The story of how Hphesus trapped his cheating wife Aphroditi with her lover Aries in golden chains. The crowd roared with laughter as he continued to sing, the mood in the hall having completely transformed. After the feast, when the wine had been flowing freely, Adysius approached

Demodicus. Demodicus, he said, you're the finest poet I've ever heard. You must be divinely inspired to sing so truthfully about the Greek's fate. Now tell us about the wooden horse built with Athena's guidance, the trick that Adysius used to smuggle warriors into Troy itself. The blind poet smiled and struck his liar. He sang of how the Greeks had burned their camp and sailed away while their best warriors hid in the horse's hollow belly. He sang of the Trojans debating whether to smash the wooden horse, throw it from the cliffs, or dedicate it to the gods.

He sang of how the Greeks poured out in the night and How Athena granted them victory in that terrible battle. As the poet sang, Odysius wept openly now, his tears flowing as he heard his own story. Alsinuous, seeing his guests uncontrollable grief, raised his hand to stop the singing. Deodicus, hold your song. Our guest does not enjoy this tale as we do. Since you began singing of Troy, he has not stopped weeping. The king turned to Adysius. But you, honored guest, it is time to Tell us truly. What is your name? What city do you

come from? Where should our ships carry you? And why do you weep so bitterly when you hear of Troy's fate? Did you lose a kinsman there, a son or a brother, or perhaps a beloved companion? The hall fell silent. Every face turned toward the mysterious stranger. Odysius wiped his eyes, straightened his shoulders, and spoke at last with his true voice, the voice that had commanded A thousand warriors. I am Odysius, son of Leertes, famous throughout the world for my cunning. My home is Ithaca, a small rocky island in the western sea that means everything to

me. I've spent 10 years trying to return. A gasp ran through the hall. This was Adysius himself, the architect of Troy's destruction, the cleverest of all the Greeks, sitting at their table. Since leaving Troy's burning towers, I Have wandered seas no Greek has sailed before, seen horrors beyond mortal imagination. Lost every one of my faithful companions to monsters, storms, and divine wroth. Every attempt to reach my homeland has ended in tragedy, each disaster worse than the last. He looked around the silent hall at the faces of those who stared back at him. "But you ask

for my story," he said, settling back in his chair, accepting the wine cup a servant offered. "Then I will tell it all, from the day we sailed from Troy to the moment I washed up naked and alone on your shore." Listen then to the tale of my wanderings and judge for yourselves whether any man has suffered more at the hands of the gods. Part five. Lost at sea. As Adysius began his story in the great hall of Alcinus, the torches flickering Against the stone walls, he recalled back to the last days of the Trojan War

10 years prior. His 12 black ships sat low in the water. Their hollow hulls loaded with Trojan gold looted from the city. His men, tired after a decade of war, yearned for nothing more than to feel Ithacan soil beneath their feet once more. The warriors sang as they pushed the ships into the surf, their voices carrying across the water a song of homecoming. After 10 long years, They would first head north along the Thrian coast to look for supplies. Their stores were running low, the grain sacks nearly empty after the final weeks of the siege.

After two days of sailing, they landed on the shores of Ismara. This was the home of the Saconians, a fierce Thrian tribe who had sent warriors to fight alongside the Trojans. their cavalry famous throughout the region for their skill with both the spear and the bow. The raid began at dawn. Adysius and his men swept through the city, overwhelming the drowsy centuries before they could raise an alarm. They gathered the supplies they desperately needed, loading their ships with aeros of wine, sacks of barley, and fresh water from the city's wells. But Odysius, knowing speed was

essential, urged his men to leave quickly, to take what they needed, and depart before the Sconians could mount a counterattack. His words fell on Deaf ears. The men, drunk on victory and saconian wine, refused to listen. They slaughtered cattle on the beach, roasting the meat over makeshift fires while passing wine skins from hand to hand. As the sun climbed higher and the shadows grew short, Adysius watched the hills with growing unease, his fears proved justified. By afternoon, the surviving Saconians had gathered their neighbors from the inland settlements, assembling a force that outnumbered the Greeks 5

to one. The battle was fierce but brief. Spears clashed against shields, and the beach ran red with blood. Six men from each of Adysius's ships fell to the Sconian assault, their bodies left behind in the hasty retreat as the Greeks fought their way back to their vessels. They pushed off from the bloodstained shore with Sacconian arrows still whistling overhead, splashing into the water around the ships as they made their escape. With their first landing Already having turned to disaster, they sailed away in silence. Only when they were safely offshore did they break it, calling out

the names of each dead companion three times, an ancient custom meant to ensure the souls could find their way to Hades, despite their bodies lying unburied on foreign sand. Heading south, they would sail around the familiar shores of Greece, past headlands they knew by name, and islands where they had stopped in happier times. The men spoke excitedly of home as they passed Eubir's long coastline, of wives they had not seen in a decade, and children who would not recognize their father's faces. They sailed through the night when the weather was fair, navigating by the stars

that Greek sailors had used for generations. Then finally they turned north towards Ithaca, towards home. But as they neared those beloved shores, When they could almost see the fishing huts dotting the beaches, Zeus himself intervened. A great storm erupted from a clear sky. The kind of tempest that only the gods can summon. In moments, their sails were gone, ripped away into the darkness. The ships groaned and cracked under the assault of waves that came from every angle. Water flooding the decks faster than the men could handle. For nine days and nights, the storm raged without

Mercy. The men could do nothing but bail water and pray, clinging to the rigging as their ships were driven far from any course they knew. When the 10th day finally brought calm seas, they found themselves in waters no Greek had sailed before, approaching an island shrouded in mist, where strange white flowers grew down to the water's edge. Part six, the island of the lotus eaters. Lost and confused with no stars they recognized in the foreign sky above them, Odysius and his crew would drag their battered ships onto the island's sandy shore. The beach was unnaturally

quiet with no sound of seabirds or the breaking of waves, only a heavy sweet fragrance that hung in the air like incense in a temple. The men stumbled from their ships on unsteady legs, their throats parched from days of drinking only the Salty water they had managed to collect during the storm. They had not walked far in land when they encountered the island's inhabitants emerging from groves of strange trees. These people moved with an odd dreamlike slowness, their faces bearing peaceful smiles that never seemed to change. Their clothes were simple white robes stained purple at

the edges from some unknown liquid. When Adysius asked them For help and directions, hoping to find their way back to familiar waters, the islanders tilted their heads as if the question puzzled them. "Directions?" one of them said, his voice soft and distant as if speaking from within a dream. "Why would you wish to leave here? Taste this instead." They offered what was to them a sacred item, the fruit of the islands, many lotus trees, holding out the strange Blossoms with both hands, like priests making an offering. The lotus fruit was unlike anything the Greeks had

seen before, white as ivory, with delicate petals that trembled in the breeze. Three of Adysius's scouts, sent ahead to investigate, took the fruit eagerly. their hunger overcoming caution. As they bit into the soft flesh, the juice ran down their chins, staining their beards purple. The effect was almost instantaneous, their eyes grew heavy and unfocused, pupils dilating until they were black as the night. smiles spread across their faces. The same unchanging expression worn by all the island's inhabitants. "Home!" one of the scouts murmured, swaying on his feet. "What home! This is home! This has always been

home!" The lotus fruit, as Adysius was soon to realize, contained a powerful drug that Invaded the mind, making those who consumed it fall into a waking sleep, forgetting their past, their families, their very names, wanting nothing more than to stay on the island forever, eating lotus, and dreaming empty dreams. As several more of his crew began to fall down around him, their eyes rolling back in their heads, Odysius would realize the sinister nature of the fruit, he saw how the island's inhabitants wandered aimlessly through The groves, some sitting beneath trees for what might have been

days or years, lotus juice dried on their clothes, their hair grown long and wild. "Stop!" he roared, striking the fruit from his men's hands. Eat nothing, touch nothing. This is a cursed place. But for those who had already eaten, it was too late. They sat down where they were, weeping when Adysius tried to raise them, begging to be allowed to stay and eat more lotus, to become Another lost soul wandering the groves. Rescuing his sleeping companions became a battle in itself. Odysius had to physically carry them to the ships, their bodies limp as sacks of

grain while they wept and pleaded, reaching out towards the lotus groves with trembling hands. Odysius ordered the ships pushed off immediately, not even taking time to fill their water jars. They rode hard, putting distance between themselves and that island of Forgetfulness with the sweet scent of lotus still clinging to their clothes. As the island disappeared into the haze behind them, the affected men finally began to wake from their stuper, remembering their names, their homes, weeping now with relief rather than loss. If you're enjoying the story so far and want access to our entire catalog of

content, then become a deep dive member. Here we have exclusive stories, bonus Episodes, and interviews with professors and industry experts. From a 2-hour epic retelling of Jason and the Argonauts to a deep dive on Homer and the authors of Greek mythology, access it all by joining the channel membership today. [music] [singing and music] Part seven. The Cyclops. Odysius and his fleet of 12 black ships had been at sea for longer than any of them had expected. The holes that should Have been filled with Trojan gold now contained only empty aerai and the last crumbs of

stale bread. The men's stomachs cramped with hunger, and their lips were cracked from rationing water under the relentless Mediterranean sun. When they finally spotted land on the horizon, the exhausted sailors pulled at their oars with renewed vigor. Stopping at the first sheltered bay they came across, they dragged their ships onto the pebbled beach and collapsed on The shore, grateful for the solid ground beneath them. As the mist cleared, Odysius spotted smoke rising from what appeared to be a shepherd's camp in the distance, nestled between limestone cliffs. Where there were shepherds, there would be food. Selecting

12 of his most trusted warriors, Odysius set out to investigate. Taking several cases of strong wine to trade, gifts they had been saving for Their journey home, the hungry crew climbed the rocky path that wound up from the beach. The scent of sheep dung and wood smoke grew stronger as they approached. They soon discovered a massive cave, its mouth yawning wide like an entrance to the underworld itself. Inside their eyes widened at the sight before them. Wheels of cheese, each the size of a warrior's shield, were stacked along the walls. Pales of fresh milk, Stood

in neat rows, their surfaces still covered with thick cream, joints of smoked meat hung from wooden beams, and pens at the back of the cave held lambs being fattened for slaughter. The warriors looked to Adysius, practically trembling at the sight of so much food. Quick," one of them urged. "Let us take what we need and return to the ships before the owner returns." But Odysius, ever curious, ever confident in his ability to talk his way Through any situation, wanted to meet this wealthy shepherd. Perhaps they could establish proper trade, secure supplies for the long journey

ahead. Unfortunately, it would prove to be one of the few times his cleverness would fail him. The men helped themselves to the cheese and milk, grateful to eat after days of near starvation. They were still eating when the ground around them began to shake. Heavy footsteps, each one like a boulder Dropping from a cliff, approached the cave. The sheep and goats outside bleeded in recognition as their master returned. Through the cave mouth came the most terrifying sight any of them had ever witnessed. Polyphimmas stood 10 times the height of a normal man. His single eye

bloodshot with red veins set in the center of his broad forehead. His arms were thick as ancient oak trees, his fingers like ship's masts. He drove his flock before Him into the cave, the sheep flowing around his massive legs like a white river. Once all his animals were inside, the cyclops reached for a boulder that 20 men could not have moved. Lifting it as easily as a man might lift a sack of grain, he sealed the entrance completely, trapping the Greeks inside with only the cooking fire for light. When Polyphimas noticed the strangers huddled against

the cave wall, his massive eye narrowed with rage. "Who are You?" His voice boomed, shaking dust from the ceiling. "Thieves, pirates, come to rob me." "Neither, great shepherd," Adysius called out, stepping forward with a confidence that had served him well in countless negotiations during the war. We are traders blown off course on our journey home from Troy. We come offering wine in exchange for provisions. The laws of hospitality protected by Zeus himself, a demand. But Polyphimas cared nothing for The laws of hospitality or the gods who protected travelers. His massive hands shot out faster than

seemed possible for something so large. He grabbed two of Adysius's men, one in each fist. The warriors barely had time to scream before the cyclops crushed them like ripe grapes, their bones snapping with sounds that would haunt the survivors forever. Blood ran between the giant's fingers as he brought the broken bodies to his mouth, devouring them entirely, Armor and all, the bronze crunching between his teeth like nuts. The remaining Greeks stepped back, pressing themselves against the cave wall, paralyzed with terror. They had faced the greatest warriors of Troy, but nothing had prepared them for this

monster. Satisfied with his meal, Polyphimas lay down among his sheep and fell into a deep sleep, his snores rumbling through the cave as Adysius and his men lay Trembling in the darkness, afraid to make any move that might wake the giant. The next morning, when dawn's first light filtered through cracks around the boulder, Polyphimas rose, milked his sheep with surprising gentleness, then grabbed two more Greeks for his breakfast. He moved the boulder aside to let his flock out to graze, but immediately sealed it again once they had passed, trapping the survivors inside. This became the

pattern of their nightmare. Each morning, two men for breakfast. Each evening, when the flock returned, two more for dinner. The cave floor became sticky with blood. Odysius, the man whose cunning had brought down the walls of Troy, knew that pure strength alone would never defeat this monster. Even if all his remaining men attacked at once, they could never overcome the Cyclops. And even if by some miracle they killed him, They would die of starvation, trapped forever behind the immovable boulder that sealed the cave, brute force had no place here. Only the cleverness of words and

wine could save them now. On the third night of their captivity, after Polyphimmis had consumed two more companions, Odysius approached the giant with a large ceramic jar. Great Polyphimas," he said, his voice steady despite the gore still visible on The Cyclops chin. "You have been feasting on my men, but you have not tasted the finest part of our cargo. This is wine from the vineyards of Ismarus, given to me by the priest of Apollo. It is strong enough that we mix one part wine with 20 parts water. Perhaps it would help wash down the taste

of your meal. The cyclops snatched the jar and drank deeply, the wine running down his beard as he did so. His single eye widened With pleasure. He had never tasted anything so potent, so sweet. "More," he bellowed, and Adysius obliged, pouring jar after jar of the unmixed wine down the giant's throat. THIS IS MAGNIFICENT, Polyphimas roared, already swaying slightly. You are generous for one about to die. Tell me your name, little man, so that I might thank you properly. Perhaps I shall even give you a gift, a special honor. Odysius barred low, hiding his smile.

My name, generous host, is nobody. Nobody is my name. Nobody is what my mother and father call me. Nobody. The cyclops laughed, the sound booming off the cave walls. Well then, nobody. Your gift is this. I shall eat nobody. Last of all, all your companions first, then nobody. He found this tremendously funny, laughing until tears ran from his great eye. The wine had done its work well. Soon the giant collapsed backwards among his sheep, unconscious, the liquid dribbling from his open mouth. Now Odysius revealed the second part of his plan. Earlier he had found an

enormous olivewood staff in the cave, as long as a ship's mast and thicker than a man could embrace. It was the Cyclops's walking stick left behind that morning. Working quickly but quietly, Odysius and four of his strongest men sharpened one end to a vicious point, then hardened it In the coals of the fire until the tip glowed red hot. Remember," Odysius whispered to his men as they lifted the massive stake. "We blind him, but do not kill him. Dead, he is a mountain of flesh blocking our escape. Alive and blind, he is our key to

freedom." They positioned themselves, the stake balanced on their shoulders like a battering ram. At Adysius's signal, they charged forward and drove the burning point deep into the Cyclops single eye. The sound was like a blacksmith plunging hot metal into water. A horrible hissing and bubbling. The stench of burning flesh filled the cave. Polyphimas woke with a scream that seemed to split the very rocks. A sound so terrible that the Greeks nearly dropped the stake in their terror. Blood and fluid poured from the ruined eye as the giant clawed at his face, trying to pull out

the weapon that had destroyed his sight. His agonized roaring was so loud that cyclopses from All across the island came running, gathering outside the sealed cave. "POLYPHIMAS," they called through the boulder. "What troubles you, brother? Is someone stealing your sheep? Is someone trying to kill you?" From inside came the pain maddened reply, "Nobody, NOBODY IS KILLING ME. Nobody has blinded me." The cyclopses outside exchanged puzzled looks. "If nobody is hurting you," one Called back, "then this must be a sickness sent by Zeus. There is nothing we can do for divine ailments. Pray to your father

Poseidon for relief. And with that they wandered away, leaving Polyphimas alone in his agony. Adysius's trick had worked perfectly. But while the giant was now blind, groping around the cave with his massive hands, trying to catch his tormentors, there was still the problem of escape. The boulder remained immovable to mortal Men, and Polyphimas, despite his blindness, would have to move it in the morning to let his flock out to graze. That night, as the Cyclops moaned and cursed in the darkness, Odysius executed the final part of his plan. Using strips torn from the clothing of

their dead companions, he and his men quietly tied themselves to the unders sides of the largest rams in the flock. They bound themselves tightly beneath the woolly bellies, their fingers groping deep into The fleece. When dawn came, Polyphimas, still weeping blood from his destroyed eye, felt his way to the boulder. He was no fool, even in his pain. He knew the humans would try to escape with his flock. Standing in the entrance, he carefully ran his hands over the back and sides of each sheep as it passed, checking for riders. But he never thought to

feel beneath them, never imagined that men would have The strength to cling to the unders sides of his rams. One by one, the sheep carried the Greeks to freedom. Odysius went last, tied beneath the largest ram, Polyphimmis's favorite. Once clear of the cave, the men cut themselves free and ran for the beach, driving a good portion of the flock before them as payment for their suffering. They loaded the sheep onto their ships and pushed off from that cursed shore as quickly as their oars could take them. They should have sailed away in silence. They should

have vanished beyond the horizon without a word. But Adysius, the hero of Troy, could not resist one final boast. As their ships pulled away from the island, he stood at the stern and shouted back at the beach, "CYCLOPS! YOU FOOL! Did you think the men you trapped were helpless prey? You brought this on yourself. You dared to devour guests under your own roof, AND NOW THE GODS HAVE GIVEN YOU WHAT YOU DESERVE." But this was not enough for Adysius. As Polyphimas roared in rage, the hero called out again, "IF ANYONE ASKS WHO BLINDED YOU, who

bested you with cleverness and courage, tell them it was not nobody. IT WAS ODYSIUS, SON OF LEERTES, SACKER of cities, hero of Troy. It is Odysius of Ithaca who has defeated you." From the shore came a roar of pure rage. Polyphimmas, guided by the voice, hurled a massive boulder that landed just Behind their ship, the splash nearly capsizing them. He threw another and another, each one falling closer as the Greeks rode desperately for open water. But worse than the boulders was what followed. Polyphimas son of Poseidon faced the ocean and prayed to his father in

the depths below. Hear me, Earthshaker, Lord of the seas. If I am truly your son, grant me this curse upon Adysius of Ithaca. May he Lose every one of his companions. May he wander the seas for years, lost and alone. And if the fates decree he must reach his homeland, let him arrive as a broken man on a foreign ship to find only sorrow in his own house. Far beneath the waves, Poseidon heard his son's prayer. The god's anger rose like a storm tide, and from that moment, Odysius was marked. The sea itself would become

his enemy. Every wave would fight against him. Every current would pull Him from his course. The journey home that should have taken weeks would stretch to 10 long years. All because Adysius in his pride had to reveal who had truly bested the Cyclops. >> [music] >> Part 8. Is the Lstreonians. Unaware of the curse that Poseidon had placed upon him, unaware that the very sea beneath his hull had become his Enemy, Odysius sailed on with his fleet. After days of rowing through calm waters that seemed almost suspiciously peaceful, they spotted something extraordinary on the horizon.

An island that seemed to float above the waves. This was IA, the floating kingdom of Iolus, keeper of the winds. The king himself stood on the harbor to greet them, a figure both regal and strange, his robes constantly rippling as if touched by invisible breezes. His palace Was unlike anything the Greeks had ever seen, built entirely of bronze that sang softly when the wind passed through it, creating an endless, haunting melody. For 10 days and 10 nights, I entertained his guests with magnificent feasts. The hall was filled with the king's 12 children, six sons and

six daughters who had married one another according to their ancient customs. Each evening, iolas would regail them with stories of the winds themselves, how the north wind Was proud and harsh, how the west wind brought rain and sorrow, how the south wind carried the heat of distant deserts. On the morning of their departure, as Adysius's men loaded their ships with fresh supplies, King Iololis presented his guest with an extraordinary gift. It was a leather bag made from an oxhide, bound tightly with a silver cord. In this bag, I explained, I have trapped every contrary wind

that might blow you Off course. I leave only the west wind free to carry you swiftly home to Ithaca. Guard this carefully, Odysius. Do not open it until you stand on your own shore, or all the winds will rush out at once. Odysius thanked the king profusely, storing the bag carefully at the stern of his ship, where he could watch it personally. Setting sail with the west wind filling their sails, the fleet made remarkable Progress. For nine days and nights, Adysius did not sleep, his hand constantly on the steering ore, his eyes fixed on the

horizon. The mysterious bag sat beside him, occasionally twitching and bulging as the imprisoned winds fought to escape. On the 10th day, exhausted but triumphant, Odysius could see it at last. Ithaca, his homeland rose from the sea, its familiar mountains sharp against the sky. They were so close that he could hear dogs Barking on the shore. Finally, overcome by exhaustion, convinced that safety was assured, Odysius allowed his eyes to close. It was the moment his crew had been waiting for. For 10 days they had watched their captain guard that leather bag, never letting anyone near it.

They had whispered among themselves during the night watches, convinced that Iololis had filled it with gold and silver, treasures that Adysius planned to keep for himself, while they, who had Suffered equally at Troy, would receive nothing. "Look at him," muttered one sailor to another as they crept towards the stern. "He returns home with wealth, while we have only scars to show our families. We deserve our share," agreed another, reaching for the silver cord. "Just a handful of gold each. Surely he won't miss that." The moment they loosened the cord, disaster struck. The bag erupted like

a volcano. All the imprisoned winds bursting forth at once In a screaming gale that sent men tumbling across the deck. The north wind and the south wind fought each other in violent spirals. The east wind slammed into the west wind. The storm seized their ships and tossed them violently. Masts snapping, sails tearing to rags. Men clung to whatever they could find. As the fleet was hurled backwards across the sea, away from Ithaca, away from home, spinning helplessly in the tempest. Odysius woke to find himself being dragged across the deck by the tempest. Through the spray

and chaos, he saw Ithaca disappearing into the distance, becoming smaller and smaller until it vanished entirely. The despair that gripped him was so complete that for a moment he considered throwing himself into the churning sea. Only the thought of his men screaming in terror as they fought to control their ships kept him at his post. When the winds finally exhausted themselves, when the sea finally calmed, the battered fleet found itself back where they had started. The walls of Iolia rose before them once again, but this time no welcome awaited them. When Adysius climbed the familiar

path to the palace, he found the great bronze doors barred against him. "Go away!" King Iololis called from the walls, his face cold as the north wind. and he commanded. I know now what you Are, Adysius. No mortal could squander such a gift through mere misfortune. The gods themselves must despise you to have brought you back to my door. I will not help one whom the immortals have cursed leave my island immediately, or I shall unleash such winds as will tear your ships to splinters." With no choice but to obey, Odysius returned to his men,

the weight of failure heavy on his shoulders, they sailed away from Iolia in silence, Rowing when the wind failed them, each stroke of the oars, feeling like a condemnation. Still unaware that it was Poseidon himself who orchestrated their misfortunes, they pressed on through waters that grew stranger with each passing day. After six days of hard rowing, with the water running low, and the men grumbling about their captain's leadership, they spotted land once more. It was a harbor unlike any they had seen Before, perfectly circular, surrounded by tall cliffs that rose like walls on every side.

The entrance was so narrow that the ships had to enter in single file. Inside the harbor was eerily calm, the water completely still. It seemed safe, protected, a perfect place to rest and resupply. 11 of the 12 ships entered the harbor, tying up alongside each other in the still water. But Odysius, made cautious by the recent disasters, kept his own ship outside, mooring it to A rock near the harbor's mouth, where he could make a quick escape if needed. He selected three of his most reliable scouts, men who had served him well at Troy, and

sent them in land to learn about the inhabitants and perhaps trade for supplies. The scouts climbed the cliff path eagerly, glad to stretch their legs after days at sea. At the top, they found themselves on a broad plane with a road that led towards smoke rising in The distance. The first person they encountered was a young woman, tall and strong, carrying a water jar on her shoulder. She seemed friendly enough, smiling at their greeting and pointing them toward the town when they asked, but there was something unsettling about her size. She stood a full head

taller than the tallest of them, and her arms were as thick as a man's thigh. Following her directions, they entered What they thought was a town, but quickly realized was something far more terrifying. The buildings were enormous, the doorways so high that the Greeks had to crane their necks to see the tops. And then they saw the inhabitants, giants, true giants, each one larger than any being they had seen before. The scouts ran, but they had been seen. The alarm went up, a horrible bellowing that echoed across the plane. The giants, the Lstreonians as they

were known, came Pouring out of their houses, hundreds of them, men and women alike, all massive, all hungry, for these were not just giants, but cannibals, and they had not tasted human flesh in many months. The three scouts sprinted back toward the cliffs, but only one made it. The other two were caught. Their screams cut short as the giants grabbed them and bit through their armor as easily as biting through bread. The surviving scout tumbled down the cliff path, screaming Warnings to the fleet below. But it was too late. The Lreonians had reached the clifftops.

Looking down at the trapped ships in the harbor, they saw a feast laid out before them. The giants began tearing huge chunks of rock from the clifftops, boulders the size of ox carts, and hurling them down at the Greek ships below. The harbor that had seemed like such perfect protection, now sealed their fate, the ships had nowhere to maneuver, packed together as they Were in the narrow space. The first boulder struck a ship headon, breaking it in half, men spilling into the water. Another boulder, then another, came crashing down. The giant's aim was deadly accurate.

Generations of this exact hunting method, having made them expert marksmen. Ships splintered and sank. Men thrashed in the water, trying to swim for safety, but the Lreonians had come down to the water's edge now, spearing the swimmers Like fish, pulling them from the water and devouring them while they still screamed. The harbor turned red with blood, littered with broken timber, and the floating bodies of those the giants were saving for later. Odysius, watching in horror from his ship outside the harbor, knew there was nothing he could do. Those men were doomed. With tears streaming down

his face, he cut his mooring rope and ordered his crew to row for their lives. Behind them. The screams of their comrades grew fainter and fainter until there was only the sound of the giant's laughter carrying across the water. Of the 12 ships that had escaped Polyphimas's island, only one remained. Of the hundreds of men who had survived Troy, only Adysius's own crew of 45 souls still lived. As they rode through the night, exhausted and traumatized, each man wondered the same thing. What God had they offended to deserve such relentless catastrophe? [music] >> [music] >>

Part nine. Cersei. Days passed at sea as the men mourned their losses before they finally spotted another island. Odicius's remaining ship, battered and leaking, desperately needed repairs. The men needed food and fresh water, but more than that, they Needed hope. The island was called Aya, though they did not know its name yet, nor that it was home to Cersei, daughter of the sun god Helios. Cersei was a sorceress whose knowledge of herbs and potions was matched only by her beauty and her hatred of outsiders. Odysius divided his remaining men into two groups. Half would stay

with him to guard the ship and set up camp on the beach. The other group would explore Inland and search for inhabitants. The men drew lots to see who would go, many of them trembling as they reached into the helmet, praying they would be allowed to stay with the ship. The unlucky group, 22 men, led by Odysius's trusted lieutenant, Urillicus, set off in land with heavy hearts. They followed a path that wound through the forest between ancient oaks and pines. The further they walked, the stranger things became. They began to see animals Watching them from

between the trees, but these were not the deer or rabbits one might expect. Lions lounged in the undergrowth, their golden eyes tracking the Greeks movement. Wolves sat calmly beside the path, their tongues loling out as if they were dogs waiting for their master. The men gripped their swords tighter, expecting an attack at any moment, but the beasts made no aggressive moves. If anything, they seemed almost sad, Whimpering softly as the Greeks passed. One wolf even approached Urilicus, nuzzling his hand gently before slinking back into the forest. At the heart of the island stood a beautiful

house built of polished stone that seemed to glow with an otherworldly light. The walls were perfectly smooth, without seam or mortar, as if the entire structure had been carved from a single enormous rock. From within came the sound of singing, a woman's voice so Lovely that the men stopped in their tracks, enchanted by the melody. The voice sang of ancient things of the time before Zeus ruled when the Titans still walked the earth. The doors of the house stood open, and through them wafted the most incredible smells. Roasting meat, fresh bread, wine spiced with cinnamon

and honey. The men's stomachs, empty for days, except for ship's rations, rumbled with desire. After a brief discussion, they called Out a greeting. The singing stopped, and a woman appeared in the doorway. She was beautiful beyond description, tall and graceful, with dark hair that fell to her waist. She wore robes of silk that shifted and shimmerred as she moved. This was Cersei, though she introduced herself simply as the lady of the island. "Travelers," she exclaimed, her voice warm with welcome. "How wonderful to have guests! You look exhausted and hungry. Please Come inside. I've just prepared

a feast. As if the fates themselves told me to expect company. All 22 men followed her eagerly inside. Only Urillicus held back, some instinct warning him against trusting this mysterious woman. Perhaps it was the way the lions and wolves had behaved. Or perhaps it was simply that they had encountered too many disasters to trust easy hospitality. He hid himself behind a pillar where he Could peer through a window and watch what transpired within. The interior of the house was even more magnificent than the exterior. Furniture of silver and gold sat between tapestries that depicted the

deeds of gods and heroes. Cersei seated the men on beautiful chairs and benches, clapping her hands to summon previously unseen servants who brought plate after plate of food. There was barley meal mixed with cheese and honey and strong Wine in polished cups. The men ate ravenously, laughing and joking for the first time in weeks. But Urilicus, watching from his hiding place, saw what the others did not. He saw Cersei moving behind the feasting men, pulling a small vial from her robes and letting drops of clear liquid fall into each cup of wine. He saw her

lips moving in a chant, though he could not hear the words over the men's cheerful conversation, And he saw her draw a long wand of polished wood from her sleeve, holding it ready. The effect was almost immediate. The men's eyelids began to droop. One by one, they slumped forward, cups falling to the floor. Within moments, all 22 were unconscious, sprawled across the beautiful furniture where they had fallen. Cersei stood among them, her beautiful face now wearing a cold smile. She raised her wand and spoke words in a language older than Greek, older perhaps than human

speech itself. The air shimmerred with power, and the sleeping men began to change. Their faces elongated into snouts. Their hands and feet hardened into hooves. Coarse bristles sprouted from their skin. Their armor fell away from bodies that were reshaping themselves into something no longer human. Within minutes, where 22 Greek warriors had Sat, there were now 22 pigs squealing in confusion and terror. But here was the crulest part of Cersei's magic. The men retained their human minds. Inside each pig was a man fully aware of what had happened to him, screaming internally while only pig squeals

emerged from his throat. They tried to speak, to plead, but only grunts came out. They tried to stand upright, but fell onto all fours, their new bodies refusing to obey their human instincts. Cersei laughed, a sound that made clear she had done this many times before. Come my pretty pigs," she said, using her wand to her them outside. "The sty awaits you. Acorns and slop will be your feast now, not wine and honey cakes." Urillicus waited until she had driven the transformed men to a pen behind the house, then ran. He ran as he had

never run before, crashing through the forest, ignoring the paths, taking the straightest route back to the beach. The Dosile wolves and lions watched him pass, and now he understood. They too had once been men, sailors from other ships, transformed by Cersei's magic, into beasts. He burst onto the beach just as the sun was setting, falling to his knees before Adysius, gasping out the terrible tale between ragged breaths. The men who had remained with the ship listened in horror, many of them weeping for their transformed comrades. Odysius listened to every word. When Urillicus finished, the captain

stood and buckled on his sword. "Where are you going?" Urillicus gasped. You cannot face her alone. She is a goddess or something close to it. She will transform you as she did the others. Then I will die trying to free them. Odysius replied. I have lost too many men already. I will not abandon these as well. He set off through the darkening forest, Following the path Urillicus had described, but he had not gone far when a young man stepped out from behind a tree. The stranger was beautiful beyond mortal standards with golden hair and winged

sandals, carrying a staff entwined with serpents. Odysius recognized him immediately and fell to his knees. This was Hermes, messenger of the gods. "Rise, Odysius," Hermes said, his voice carrying amusement. "You show more Wisdom in recognizing me than in walking alone to face Cersei. Still, your courage has earned you aid. The witch's magic is powerful, but not insurmountable." The god reached into his traveling pouch and withdrew a plant with a black root and white flower. This is moly, he exclaimed, sacred to the gods and fatal for mortals who pluck it from the earth, but I give

it to you freely. Eat it now, and Cersei's potions will have no power Over you." Odysius took the herb gratefully, chewing the bitter root as Hermes instructed. When she strikes you with her wand and sees her magic fail," the god continued, "he will be afraid. Rush at her with your sword drawn as if to kill her, she will beg for mercy and invite you to her bed. Do not refuse, for she can help you free your men and aid your journey home. But first, make her swear by the river Sticks to do you no harm

and to restore your men, or she will rob you of your strength and manhood when you are most vulnerable. With that final warning, Hermes vanished as suddenly as he had appeared, leaving Adysius to continue on alone. When he reached Cersei's glowing house, he called out as his men had done. The sorceress appeared even more beautiful in the moonlight, clearly pleased to have another visitor so soon. "Welcome, Stranger," she began. "Your friends are resting comfortably. Won't you join them for dinner?" She led him inside, serving him the same meal she had given his men. Odysius ate

heartily, showing no suspicion, even drinking the wine he knew to be poisoned. Cersei watched him closely, barely concealing her eagerness. When he had drained his cup, she pulled out her wand with a triumphant smile. "Now, pig, to the sty with your friends." She struck him with The wand, speaking the words of transformation. Nothing happened. Adysius stood slowly, drawing his sword and pressing its point against Cersei's pale throat. The goddess's eyes widened in genuine shock. Never before had her magic failed. "Which!" Odysius said, his voice hard as iron. "You will swear by the river sticks, the

oath that even gods cannot break. Swear that you will restore my men to their true forms, and That you will work no more magic against me or my companions." Cersei stared at him for a long moment. Then something changed in her expression. Wonder replaced shock, and she actually smiled. "You can only be Odysius," she said. "Hermes told me long ago that a man would come who could resist my magic, and that his name would be Odysius of Ithaca." She moved closer, despite the sword Still pointed at her throat. Come, she said, her voice suddenly warm

and inviting. Put away your weapon and let us go to my bed. Let us learn to trust each other as only lovers can do. Not until you swear the oath, Odysius replied, keeping his blade steady. I know what you do to men when they are vulnerable. Cersei raised her hands and spoke. the binding words. I swear by the river sticks that I will Work no magic against you, that I will bring you no harm in my bed or anywhere else. Thunder rumbled in the distance as the oath was sealed. Now, son of Leertes, sheath your

sword and come with me. Only then did Adysius lower his weapon. Cersei led him to her chamber, where fine tapestries hung on every wall, and the bed was spread with purple cloth. She was true to her oath, and when dawn came, she had her servants prepare a Bath for him with warm water and fragrant oils. They dressed him in a fresh tunic and cloak, then led him to her hall, where a feast was waiting. But Adysius would not touch the food. He sat in silence, staring at the laden table. What troubles you? Cersei asked. Why

do you sit like a man in mourning when I have given you everything a guest could desire? How can I eat? Odysius replied. When my men are still grunting in your pigsty. If you want me to feast in your hall, first restore my companions to their true forms. Cersei smiled and rose from her chair. Your reputation for cunning is well earned. Very well. She led him to the sty where 22 swine crowded against the fence, squealing desperately when they saw their captain. Cersei rubbed each pig with a different drug, and the magic reversed itself. Bristles

fell away. Hooves became hands and feet. Snouts shrank back into human faces. The men stood before him, naked and confused, but whole, actually looking younger and stronger than they had before their transformation. The reunion was joyful, with the men embracing each other and weeping. Cersei, now bound by her oath, provided the men with clothing and food, real food this time, without any magical additions. She sent them back to the Beach to fetch Adysius's remaining crew, guaranteeing their safety. Cersei was so taken with Adysius's courage and cleverness that she invited him to stay as her guest,

not as a pig in her sty, but as a man in her bed. For a full year they remained an AA, recovering from their traumas, eating Cersei's magnificent food, drinking her wine, and growing strong again. Adysius spent his nights with the goddess, and from their union would eventually come a son, Telegus, though Adysius would not learn of his existence for many years. But as the year turned, the men grew restless. They had families waiting in Ithaca. wives and children who thought them dead. Finally, Odysius too felt the pull of home and told Cersei he must

leave. The goddess was sad but not surprised. I knew this day would come, she said. But Adysius, your journey home will not be easy. The gods have placed many obstacles in your path, and you sail Toward dangers that would break lesser men. Before you face them, you must seek knowledge. You must sail to the very edge of the world, to the entrance of Hades itself and speak with the ghost of the prophet Tyresius. Only he can tell you how to survive what lies ahead. She gave him detailed instructions for the terrible journey, what sacrifices to

make, and what words to speak. As his men prepared the ship for Departure, loading it with supplies Cersei had provided, she pulled Adysius aside one final time. "Remember, hero," she said, touching his face gently. "The sea itself is your enemy, though you do not yet know why. Every wave hides a danger, every calm conceals a storm. Trust nothing, question everything, and perhaps, just perhaps, you will see Ithaca again. As their black ship sailed away from Aya, Adysius stood at the stern, Watching the island fade into the distance, but not all his men were aboard. In

the rush of departure, no one had noticed that Elpino, the youngest of the crew, was missing. The night before, Elpino had drunk heavily at the farewell feast. Seeking fresh air, he had climbed a ladder to Cersei's flat roof and passed out, completely deaf to the world. When the morning came, and he heard his companions calling to each other, preparing the ship for departure, Elpino awoke with a start. Still drunk and confused about where he was, he stood up quickly and walked straight off the edge of the roof. It was not a great height, but he

fell head first, his neck snapping against the stone courtyard below. His soul fled immediately to the house of Hades, traveling swifter than any ship, so that his ghost would arrive in the underworld before his companions, waiting there to beg Adysius for the proper burial his body had been denied. They would not discover his absence until they were far out to see, and by then it was too late to turn back. The men wept for their lost companion, another life claimed by this cursed journey. But they could only sail forward, preparing themselves for the descent to

the very edge of the world that Cersei had described. Part 10. the underworld. [music] Following Cersei's precise instructions, Odysius and his men sailed to the very edge of the world, where the sun never shines, and the river Oianus meets the entrance to Hades. The water here was black as tar, and a thick mist clung to everything, so dense that they could barely see the prow of their own ship. No birds flew in this cursed sky. No fish swam in these dead waters. Even the wind seemed reluctant to blow here, forcing them to row through the

still Waters. They beached their ship on a shore of dark sand that crunched like bones beneath their feet. Before them lay the grove of Pesphanany, queen of the underworld, where black poppplers and willows grew, their branches drooping toward the dead earth. These trees, sacred to Pesphanany, marked the boundary between the world of the living and the world of the dead. Beyond the grove, exactly as Cersei had Described, they found the place where two rivers of the underworld converged. Piplethon, the river of fire, and Cassitis, the river of lamentation, both flowing into Aaron, the river of

woe. At this meeting point of the infernal rivers, Odysius ordered his men to dig a pit. His hands shook slightly as he performed the rituals Cersei had taught him. First he poured libations around the pit, honey mixed with milk, then Sweet wine, and finally clear water, sprinkling white barley over it all. Then came the blood sacrifice. Two sheep, a black ram and a black u were brought forward. Odysius cut their throats, letting the dark blood flow into the pit while speaking the prayers to the dead that Cersei had whispered to him in the night. At

once the dead began to rise. Up from the earth, drawn by the scent of blood, came spirits who rose like smoke from cracks in the ground, Translucent and gray. First came the young brides who had died before their wedding nights, then unmarried youths cut down in their prime. There were old men who had lived full lives, and young girls still mourning their lost futures. Warriors came too, their ghostly forms still bearing the wounds that had killed them, phantom spears protruding from their transparent chests. The dead pressed forward in crowds, Thousands upon thousands, all desperate for

a taste of the blood that would briefly restore their ability to speak and think clearly. Their moaning filled the air, a sound that chilled the living to their bones. Odysius's crew cowered behind him, some weeping with terror, overwhelmed at the sight of so many spirits. Odysius drew his sword, using it to keep the ghosts at bay. allowing none to drink until Tyresese appeared. But the first spirit to approach was not The prophet. It was Elpino, his youngest crew member, whose body still lay unburied on Cersei's island. Unlike the other ghosts who needed blood to speak,

Elpino could still talk clearly, for without proper burial rights, his soul had not fully crossed into death. Captain Elpino's ghost cried more solid than the others because his death was so recent. How did you reach the house of Hades as fast as I who traveled without a ship? My lord, I beg you, when you Return to the world of the living, do not leave me unburied and unmorned. Return to Aya and burn my body with my armor. Build me a mound on the shore and plant my ore upon it. The ore I pulled when I

was alive among my companions. Odysius, his heart heavy with guilt, promised to fulfill these rights. Elpino's spirit drifted back into the shadows, satisfied that he had been heard. Next came a sight that shattered Adysius's composure entirely. From the gray masses of the dead emerged his own mother, Anthic Clair. When he had left for Troy, she had been alive and well, waiting for his return. Now here she stood amongst the spirits, reaching toward him with pale arms. Odysius wept openly, realizing she must have died during his long absence. Three times he tried to embrace her, and

three times his arms passed through her form as if she were made of mist, But he held her back from the blood, despite desperately wanting to speak with her. Terraius must drink first. Finally, the ghost of the Thean prophet appeared, still carrying his golden staff, even in death. Unlike the other spirits who wandered aimlessly, Terresius moved with purpose, his blind eyes somehow seeing more clearly than those of the living. Odysius sheathed his sword and stepped back from the pit, allowing the prophet To drink the dark blood. As the liquid passed his lips, awareness flooded back

into Theresius's features. His voice when he spoke was clear and strong, not the whisper of the other ghosts. Odysius of Ithaca, the prophet began. You seek a way home, but the god who shakes the earth has made your journey bitter. Prooseidon will not forget that you blinded his son, the Cyclops Polyphimas. Still, you may yet reach home if you can control yourself and your men. The Prophet spoke as if seeing terrible visions as he continued, "You will come to the island of Thata where the sun god Helios keeps his sacred cattle. These golden beasts number

350, and they neither give birth nor die. If you harm even one of them, I foresee destruction for your ship and all your crew, you alone might survive, but you would return home on a foreign ship, broken and alone, to find trouble in your own house, arrogant men consuming Your wealth and courting your wife." Odicius listened intently as Tyreseius described the trials that lay ahead. And when the prophet finally finished speaking and withdrew, Odysius finally allowed his mother to approach the blood. As she drank, recognition dawned in her ghostly features. "My son," she said, tears

forming in her eyes. How are you down here in this darkness while still alive? Have you been wandering all these years Since Troy? Have you not yet reached Ithaca or seen your wife or son? Through his own tears, Odysius told her of his trials. In return, she gave him news of home. His wife Penelope still waited, though she wept each night. His son, Tmicus, just a baby when he left, was now grown to manhood. His father, old Leertes, had withdrawn from the palace to live like a peasant on his farm, grieving for his lost son.

As for herself, she had died not of illness, But of longing, her heart broken by Odysius's absence. Odysius tried to embrace his mother, to feel her warmth one final time, but she slipped through his arms like smoke. "We are ghosts, my son. Nothing more," she explained sadly. "Return to the living and to your wife who waits for you." After his mother withdrew, many other spirits came forward to drink. Odysius saw queens and princesses of old alongside heroes from ancient times. Then came a procession that filled him with both joy and sorrow, the ghosts of his

comrades from Troy. First was Agamemnon, the great king who had led the Greek forces. He wept as he told Adysius of his murder at the hands of his own wife Clyamenestra and her lover struck down on the very day he returned home from war. Trust no woman completely. The dead king warned bitterly. Though your Penelope was always wise and faithful. Then came Achilles, the greatest warrior who ever lived. Still magnificent even as a spirit. After drinking the blood, he recognized Adysius immediately. "Achilles," Adysius said warmly, "you had everything in life: fame, honor, and the respect

of every Greek warrior. And look, even now you're a king amongst the spirits. Surely death is not so terrible for you. Do not try to console me about death, Achilles replied bitterly. I would rather be alive as the lowest slave to the poorest master than rule as king over the dead. The great warrior, who had chosen glory and death over a long but quiet life, now saw that choice had been wrong. Nothing in death was worth the simplest pleasures of being alive. As Adysius continued speaking with his dead companions, the spirits began to grow more

restless, more and more crowded forward, thousands of them, Their moaning growing louder until it was like the roar of a terrible storm. They pressed closer and closer, no longer held back by his sword, their pale hands reaching, touching, grasping. Back to the ship," Odysius shouted to his terrified men. They ran through the grove of Pphanie, the twisted trees seeming to grasp at them with their skeletal branches. Behind them, the moaning of the dead rose to a horrible crescendo, they pushed their black ship Into the water and rode with all their strength, not daring to look

back at the cursed shore. Having escaped the madness, Odysius and his men sailed back across the ocean toward Aya, Cersei's island, where they had one final task to fulfill. They found Elpino's body exactly where it had fallen, still lying in the courtyard beneath Cersei's roof, his neck bent at an unnatural angle. The men who had mocked him for his drinking now Shed tears as they carried him to the shore. They built his funeral p high, burning his body with his armor as he had requested. When the flames died down and they had gathered his bones,

they raised a mound over them and planted his ore on top. The ore he had pulled when he lived amongst them. Cersei met them at her house, accompanied by servants carrying bread, meat, and wine. She had prepared a Feast, knowing they would need strength for what lay ahead. As the men ate, and tried to forget the horrors of the underworld, Cersei drew Adysius aside, leading him to a quiet corner where they could speak privately. So, you have been to the house of the dead and returned," she said, studying his face. "Listen carefully, for the journey

ahead holds dangers that make the underworld seem peaceful. I will tell you exactly what you must do To survive, though I warn you now, not all your men can be saved." Through the night, as his exhausted crew slept, Cersei detailed every horror that awaited them. She spoke of creatures and monsters, of impossible choices where men would die no matter what path he chose. She taught him strategies and secrets, and when the next day came, she helped them load their ship with provisions. As they prepared to depart, Cersei stood On the shore, her dark hair bound

up for the morning breeze. "Remember everything I have told you," she called to Adysius. "Trust nothing in the sea ahead, for Poseidon's rage follows you still." Then she sent a favorable wind to fill their black sail, the last gift she would ever give them. Part 11. The sirens. They had been sailing for half a day, when the wind that Cersei had sent Suddenly died. The sail hung slack, and the sea became perfectly still, not a ripple disturbing its surface. The men looked at each other uneasily. Such sudden calms were never natural, always the work of

gods or monsters. Then they heard it, carried across the water, though there was no wind to bear it, singing. It started faintly like voices from a distant shore, but grew clearer with each stroke of their oars. The melody Was unlike anything mortal musicians could create. Each note so perfect it made them forget everything else. Odysius knew immediately what they faced. The sirens, he said to his crew, and several men went pale. Every sailor had heard tales of these creatures, though none had ever returned to describe them. They sat on their island, surrounded by the bones

of men who had steered toward their voices, forgetting home, forgetting family, forgetting Everything but the need to hear their song more clearly. Quick, Adysius commanded, pulling out a wheel of beeswax Cersei had given him. Soften this in your hands and plug your ears completely. Let no sound through, no matter how beautiful." The men obeyed hastily, rolling the wax between their palms until it was soft enough to shape, then pressing it deep into their ears. The world went silent for them, even the splash of the oars now soundless. But Adysius, driven by curiosity, wanted to be

the first man to hear the siren song and live to tell of it. "Bind me to the mast," he ordered his men, who could read his lips, though they heard no sound. "Use the strongest ropes, and no matter what I say or do, do not release me until we are far past the siren's island. If I struggle, if I plead, if I command you as your captain, only tie me tighter." They wrapped the rough rope around him and the mast, binding his Arms to his sides, securing his legs so he could not move. Perimedes and

Urilicus, his most trusted men, stood guard beside him with more rope ready. As they rode closer, the singing grew louder, and Adysius finally heard the words clearly. Odysius, great Odysius, clever king of Ithaca's shore. Come and hear the truths that no man has heard before. Come closer, famed Adysius, honored by the gods above. We sing of war and wisdom, Of glory and of love. All the secrets Troy concealed. All the mysteries of fate rest here upon our island. Come before it grows too late. The voices were beyond beautiful. They promised knowledge, understanding, answers to every

question he had ever asked. They knew his name, his deeds, his deepest desires. Odysius felt his mind clouding. He had to get closer, had to hear more. He struggled against the ropes, the coarse fibers cutting into His skin as he fought. "Release me!" he shouted at his men. But they rode on, their faces set with determination, hearing nothing. He pleaded. He commanded. He threatened them with death for disobeying their captain. Perimedes and Urilicus simply stepped forward and added more rope, binding him so tightly he could barely breathe. The song continued, each verse more enticing than

the last. The sirens sang of his cleverness at Troy, of the wooden horse That had ended the war. They sang of his future glory, of secrets only the gods knew. Tears streamed down Adysius's face as he struggled, his wrists bleeding where the rope cut into them, his voice growing from shouting commands no one could hear. But gradually, impossibly, the island began to fall behind them. The song grew fainter, though Adysius strained to hear every last note. Finally, when the island had vanished completely over the Horizon, and the men could see their captain had stopped struggling,

they removed the wax from their ears and untied him. Odysius collapsed to the deck, shaking. His throat was raw, his wrists and arms marked with rope burns, but he had heard the siren song and survived, the first mortal ever to do so. What he did not know was that he would also be the last, for on their island the sirens had fallen silent. An ancient prophecy had declared that if any mortal resisted their song, they must die. As his ship disappeared into the distance, the creatures threw themselves into the sea, their bodies washing up on

the shore to join the bones of their countless victims. Part 12. Silla and Kuribdus. The relief of surviving the sirens lasted only until the next morning when Adysius saw what lay ahead. The sea Narrowed into a straight between two cliffs, with him realizing instantly that they had reached a passage Cersei had warned him about. The cliff on the left was shrouded in a deep mist, and even from a distance they could hear the roar of Caribdus. Three times a day this monstrous whirlpool sucked down the waters, exposing the sandy seafloor littered with shipwrecks, then vomited

it back up in a towering spout that reached to the Clouds. Any ship caught in her pull would be dragged down to destruction, every soul aboard lost. Meanwhile, the right cliff rose sharply from the water, its face dotted with dark caves. Halfway up in the largest cave lived Silla. Cersei had described her in horrible detail. Six heads on six long necks, each mouth filled with triple rows of teeth. Below them, 12 feet scratched at the rock, though her body remained hidden deep within the cave, never fully Seen by anyone who lived to tell of it.

She would snatch sailors from passing ships, one for each head, and devour them alive, as their shipmates watched in horror. Odysius faced an impossible choice, exactly as Cersei had warned. There was no path between the monsters. The straight was too narrow. He would have to choose which one to face. Coriptus would destroy them all, but Silla would take six men, no more, no less. Six men Whose deaths would buy passage for the rest. He made his decision without telling the crew. Better they did not know until it was too late to be afraid. Row toward

the right cliff, he commanded, his voice steady, though his heart was breaking. "Stay as far from the whirlpool as possible, but keep rowing no matter what happens." As they entered the straight, Caribbdus began to suck down the sea. The men gasped in Horror as they saw the whirlpool's throat, a spinning funnel that seemed to reach down to the foundation of the world. The current pulled at their ship, trying to drag them in, and they rode desperately to keep clear. Every man watched the whirlpool, transfixed by the terrible sight, which was why they did not see

Silla until it was too late. Six heads shot down from the cave above, moving so fast they seemed to blur. Each grabbed a man From his rowing bench, lifting him high into the air. The victims had time for just one scream, calling out to Adysius, their arms reaching toward him even as their heads retracted back towards the cave. The sound that followed was worse than their screams, the cracking of bones, the tearing of flesh as Silla devoured them. Their companions could only row harder, tears streaming down their faces as the monster ate their friends above

their heads. Blood dripped Down onto the deck, yet still they rode, because to stop was to mean instant death. When they finally cleared the straight, emerging into open water, the men collapsed over their oars, sobbing. Six more companions gone, their deaths necessary for the survival of the rest. Odysius stood at the helm. He had made the choice, Cersei advised, the only choice that left any of them alive. But the faces of the six men Silla had taken Would haunt him forever. Storm clouds were already gathering on the horizon, black and ominous. The men had no

time to mourn properly. They had to find shelter. And soon enough, they spotted an island ahead. Thracia, the land of the sun. Part 13. The Cattle of the Sun. Odysius knew this island the moment he saw it. The prophecy of Tyreseius rang in his Ears, the ghosts warning clear as day. Touch not the cattle of Helios, or all your men will perish. He wanted to sail past to avoid the danger entirely, but his crew was exhausted, traumatized, pushed beyond endurance. "Please, Captain," Urillicus spoke for all of them. "We need rest. We need to mourn our

dead. Just one night on shore and we'll sail at dawn. Against his better judgment, Adysius agreed. But he made them all swear a Solemn oath. This island belongs to Helas, the sun god who sees all. His sacred cattle graze here. Immortal beasts that must not be touched. Swear by the river sticks that you will only eat the provisions Cersei gave us. Not one animal on this island must be harmed. They all swore, too tired to imagine they could break such an oath. They beached the ship in a sheltered cove and made camp, planning to leave

with the morning light. But that night Zeus sent a storm. It was no ordinary tempest. The south wind howled, driving waves the height of mountains against the shore. Lightning split the sky continuously and rain fell in sheets so thick they could not see 10 ft ahead. The storm raged for a day, then a week, then two weeks. Their black ship would have been shattered to splinters if they had tried to launch it. At first the men lived on the provisions from Cersei, grain and wine and preserved meat. But As the storm stretched into its third

week, then its fourth, the supplies dwindled, they tried fishing, but the storm had driven all fish to deeper waters. They hunted birds, but found only a few scrawny seagulls. They gathered shellfish from the rocks, but it was never enough. Meanwhile, the cattle of Helios wandered the island in great herds, goldenhorned and beautiful, their hides glowing with the light of the sun. 350 of them, each One perfect, neither aging nor breeding, as eternal as their master. They would walk past the camp, close enough to touch, their meat enough to feed the crew for weeks on end.

By the end of the month, the men were skeletal, their cheeks hollow, their eyes sunk deep in their skulls. They chewed leather. They boiled grass. Some tried eating dirt to fill their empty stomachs, and still the storm raged on. Odysius went alone to the interior of The island to pray to any god who might listen. Exhausted and weak from hunger, he found a cave sheltered from the wind and knelt to make his prayers. But the gods sent him sleep instead of answers, and he collapsed into unconsciousness. It was Urillicus who spoke first amongst the men.

Brothers, he said, all deaths are terrible, but starving is the worst. Better to die quickly at the hands of The gods than waste away to nothing. We'll kill the finest cattle and sacrifice them properly to the immortals. If Helios is angry, if he destroys us at sea, at least we'll die with full stomachs like men instead of beggars. The starving crew needed no more encouragement. They chose the best cattle from the herd, beautiful beasts with golden horns and pure white hides. They performed all the proper rituals, Making prayers and promises to build temples if they

survived. Then they slaughtered the animals, butchered them expertly, and set the meat to roast over fires. The smell of cooking beef drifted across the island and reached Adysius in his cave, waking him instantly. He ran back toward the beach, but even before he crested the hill, he knew what had happened. He could hear the sizzle of fat in the fires could see the smoke Rising into the dark sky. When he saw the spitted carcasses, the men gorging themselves on the sacred meat, he fell to his knees and wept. You fools," he cried. "You've killed us

all. Those cattle belonged to the god who drives the sun across the sky, who sees everything that happens on earth. We are all dead men." But the crew was beyond caring. They had been starving for a month, and the meat was sweet beyond description. They Feasted for 6 days until suddenly on the 7th the storm stopped. The wind died, the clouds parted, and the sea became calm once more. Even as they loaded their ship, strange omens appeared. The cattle hides crawled along the ground as if alive. The meat on the spits began to bellow like

living beasts, but the men were desperate to leave, to escape before even worse happened. They had barely cleared the island when Helios made his complaint to Zeus. Father of the gods, the sun god raged. The mortals have slaughtered my sacred cattle. The beasts I look down upon with joy each day as I drive my chariot across the sky. If they are not punished, I will drive my chariot down to Hades and shine among the dead instead of the living. Zeus could not allow the sun to abandon the sky. He sent a black cloud that Rushed

across the water faster than any natural storm. The men barely had time to lower the sail before the tempest struck. Lightning split the mast in half, sending it crashing down to crush the helmsman's skull. The thunderbolt that followed split the ship from stem to stern, opening it like a seed pod. The men were flung into the raging sea. They bobbed like seabirds for a moment, calling to each other, trying to grab floating pieces of the wreck. Then the Waves took them one by one, pulling them under. These men who had survived, Troy, the Cyclops, the

Lestreonians, Cersei, the journey to the underworld, Silla, all of them drowned in minutes, their bodies never to be found or given proper burial. Only Adysius survived, clinging to the broken mast that he had tied to a beam from the wreck. For nine days and nights he drifted, without food or water, burned by the sun And frozen by the night, delirious and close to death. On the 10th day, the currents carried him to an island forgotten by gods and men, where the beautiful nymph Calypso found him unconscious on her shore, more dead than alive. The prophecy

had come to pass exactly as Tyreseius had foretold. Every single one of his men was gone, and Adysius was alone, cast up on a foreign shore with no ship, no crew, and No way home. Poseidon's curse had claimed them all, except the one man the god wanted to suffer most. Part 14, the journey home. And so, Odysius said, his voice from his long story. Calypso found me on her shore. For seven years she kept me on her island, offering immortality if I would stay as her husband. But I thought only of my home, of Penelope

and Tmicus, the son I Had never seen grow to manhood. Finally, the gods commanded her to release me. She helped me build a raft and I sailed for seven days before Poseidon saw me and shattered my vessel with another storm. That was when your princess Noaya found me naked and exposed on your beach and brought me to this hall. The great hall of the Fia had fallen completely silent. King Alsinuous and Queen Ariti sat Transfixed along with all their nobles. They had asked for his story, and Adysius had given it to them in its entirety,

from Troy to their very doorstep. Every monster, every loss, every impossible choice. The torches had burned low during the telling, with the first rays of sunlight showing through the windows. Never, said King Alcinisu, at last, have we heard such a tale of suffering and endurance. You have convinced us utterly that you are indeed Adysius, and we will keep our promise. Today, you shall go home. The king was true to his word. The Fiatians were master sailors descended from Poseidon himself. They loaded a black ship with gifts, bronze tripods, golden bowls, and fine cloth, more wealth

than Odysius had lost from Troy. As the sun set, Odysius boarded the ship. The Fiatian crew made a bed for him on the deck, spreading out soft rugs And linen sheets. Exhausted from telling his story, and overcome by the knowledge that he was finally going home, Odysius fell into the deepest sleep he had known in 20 years. The ship flew across the water under the guidance of its expert crew. All through the night it sailed, carrying the long-suffering man towards his homeland. Arriving at the shores of Ithaca, they ran the ship onto the sandy beach

so gently that Adysius never woke. Still Deep in sleep, they lifted him from the deck and laid him on the sand, placing all the fatian gifts beside him. Then their task complete, they sailed for home. But Poseidon's rage was not finished. As the Fiatian ship came within sight of their own island, the Earth Shaker struck. He turned the ship and all its crew to stone just as it reached the harbor, fixing it forever as a rock in the shallow water, a warning to all who Would help his enemies. Around their city, he raised a ring

of mountains, cutting them off from the sea they had mastered, ending their days as a nation of sailors. King Alsinuous, watching from the shore, understood immediately what had happened. The prophesy his father had spoken years ago had come to pass, that one day Poseidon would punish them for fing strangers safely across the seas. The king ordered great sacrifices to the Earth shaker. 12 perfect bulls slaughtered on the beach, their blood soaking into the sand. The entire city gathered in prayer, begging Poseidon to show mercy. But the damage was done. The ship remained stone, and the

mountains stood firm around their city, forever ending their days of free passage across the waves. Odysius woke on the beach of Ithaca, but he did not know it. Athena, always watching Over her favorite mortal, had spread a thick mist over everything. The harbor, the olive trees, even the very shape of the hills, all were hidden from him. After so many deceptions, so many false hopes. She wanted to prepare him properly for what lay ahead. He sat up on the sand, looking around at the unfamiliar landscape, his heart sinking with despair. The Fiatians had tricked him.

They had promised to take him home, but had Abandoned him on some unknown shore. He checked the gifts. At least they were all there, the gold and bronze and fine cloth. "But what good was treasure if he was lost yet again?" "Another strange land," he said aloud, his voice bitter. Are the people here savage or civilized? Do they respect strangers or will I have to fight them? Oh, Zeus, why have the Fiatians betrayed me? As he spoke, a young shepherd appeared through the mist, handsome and Well-dressed, carrying a bronze spear. Odysius approached carefully, ready for

anything. Young man, he called, you are the first person I've met on this shore. Please tell me truthfully, what land is this? What people live here? The shepherd smiled. You must come from very far away, stranger, not to know this island. This is Ithaca, famous for its goats, visible even from the mainland. Odysius's heart leapt, but 20 years of Suffering had taught him caution. He would not reveal himself to the first person he met. Instead, he spun a careful lie about being a refugee from Cree, a man who had killed someone important, and fled with

his treasure. The shepherd listened to the entire false tale, then laughed. Not a shepherd's laugh, but the bright, delighted laughter of an immortal. The figure shimmerred and changed, growing taller, more graceful. The Shepherd's clothes became a shining robe. The boyish face transformed into the beautiful greyeyed features of Athena herself. "Oh, Odysius," the goddess said, still smiling. Even now, standing on your own shore, you cannot stop yourself from lying and scheming. We're alike, you and I. You, the cleverest of mortals. I, the wisest of immortals. Did you not know I've been watching over you all this

time? I could not openly Oppose Poseidon, my father's brother, but I have helped where I could. She waved her hand, and the mist dissolved. Suddenly, Adysius could see everything clearly. The olive trees he had climbed as a boy, the mountain paths where he had hunted deer with his father, the very beach where he had said goodbye to Penelope 20 years ago. This was truly Ithagga. He was home. Overcome with emotion, Odysius fell to His knees and kissed the ground of his homeland. Then remembering himself, he turned back to Athena. "Goddess," he said, "if this is

truly Ithaca, tell me, what has become of my house? Does Penelope still wait? What of my son Tmicus?" Athena's expression grew serious. Your house is full of enemies. Over a hundred suitors from Ithaca and the nearby islands have invaded your halls, eating your cattle, drinking your Wine, pressing Penelope to choose one of them as her new husband. They believe you are dead. Your wife has held them off with clever delays, but her tricks are running out. Your son Tmicus has just returned from searching for news of you. He is brave but young, and the suitor's

plot to kill him. She paused, studying his face as it hardened with anger. But you are not the man to rush in swinging a sword. You are Odysius, the Man whose cunning surpasses all others. Here, listen to my plan. The goddess explained her strategy. She would disguise him as an old beggar so that he could enter his house unrecognized, observe his enemies, and determine who among his servants remained loyal. Tmicus would be brought into the plot, but no one else, not even Penelope, could know the truth until the right moment. She touched him with her

golden wand, and Adysius felt his body changing. His skin withered and aged, becoming that of a man in his 70s. His dark hair fell out, leaving only a few gray wisps, his strong shoulders bent, while his clear eyes dimmed. She dressed him in filthy rags, torn and stained, and gave him a beggar's staff and a worn leather pouch. Go first to the swine herd Umus, Athena instructed. He remains loyal to you and Still grieves for his lost master. Stay with him while I fetch Tmicus, who needs to know his father has returned. Trust no one

else. Not yet. The suitors have grown bold in your absence. They would kill you without hesitation if they knew who you were. She helped him hide the Fatian treasure in a nearby cave, rolling a great stone across the entrance that no mortal could move. Then she vanished in a cloud of smoke, disappearing before his eyes. Odysius stood alone on the beach of Ithaca, a beggar in appearance, but a king at heart. His 20 years of wandering finally ended. But the hardest battle still lay ahead. Taking up his beggar's staff, he turned inland towards the hut

of Umus to begin his final journey. Part 15, Father and Son. The path to Umus's hut led upward through rocky terrain, away from the cultivated fields and into the rougher Land where the pigs were kept. Four dogs rushed at Adysius as he approached. Fierce animals trained to protect the herd. He sat down quickly and dropped his staff, a trick he had learned long ago, for attacking dogs rarely bite a seated man. Even so, they might have torn him apart if you had not run from his hut, shouting at them to back away. The old man,

the swine herd said, helping Adysius to his feet. You could have been torn apart, as if I don't have Enough to worry about. Here I am fattening pigs for men who don't deserve them, while my true master is lost somewhere far from home, if he's even still alive. He led Adysius into his hut, a simple but clean dwelling with a warm fire burning inside. Um brought him bread, roasted pork, and wine, then gathered goat skins into a makeshift bed by the fire. As Adysius ate, he watched his old servant moving about the hut. 20 years

Was a long time. The man's hair had gone completely gray, his face worn down by all those years of waiting for a master who never came home. But he still fussed over his guest with the same quiet care Adysius remembered. "Tell me about this master you mourn," Odysius said, maintaining his disguise. "Perhaps I have encountered him in my travels." Um shook his head sadly. Many wanderers have come to Ithaca Claiming to have news of Adysius, hoping for rewards from his poor wife. She welcomes them all, weeps at their lies, and gives them gifts. But I

know the truth. My master is dead. 20 years is too long. The sea has swallowed him or wild animals killed him in some distant land. He continued to speak through the night about the old days, about Adysius's kindness, his justice, how he had treated his servants like family. He Told of Penelopey's suffering, how the suitors consumed the wealth of the household, and how they plotted to kill Tmicus and divide the kingdom amongst themselves. The young master tries to stand against them, you may have said, but he is one, and there are many. He has his

father's courage, but not yet his cunning. I fear for him every day. Adysius slept that night on the goat skins, his fists clenched in anger at what he had heard, But he managed to keep his disguise. They spent three days together. Adysius told false tales of his supposed life, carefully testing Umeas's loyalty with criticism of the absent king, with suggestions that Adysius might never return. But he remained faithful, defending his master's memory, maintaining hope against all reason. On the fourth day, as morning came, the dogs outside began barking, not with aggression, but with joy, whining

and Wagging their tails. The footsteps approached and Adysius looked up from the fire to see a young man in the doorway, tall and wellb built, carrying a bronze spear. His heart stopped. This was Tmacus, his son. The infant he had left behind was now a man. Butus had to grip the edge of his seat to keep from standing, from calling out. 20 years of imagining this moment had not prepared him for the reality. My dear child, you may cried, jumping to His feet. Tmicus, I fear the suitors had killed you on your journey. Come in,

let me look at you safe and sound. Odysius watched his son embrace the swine herd with genuine warmth. When Tmicus asked about his mother, the concern in his voice made Judicius's chest tighten. Tell me, does my mother still resist the suitors? Has he chosen one to marry? She holds firm, you may assured him. She weeps each night, but makes no choice. But tell me of your journey. Did you find news of your father? I learned he still lives. Tmicus said carefully. Menaus told me that Adysius is held captive on a nymph's island, unable to sail

home, no matter how he might wish to, but whether that has changed, I cannot say. At that moment, Tmicus became aware of the stranger sitting by the fire. As his son's eyes landed on him, Odysius had to force himself to remain hunched. To keep His head bowed and his manner humble, every instinct screamed at him to reveal himself, but he mumbled a greeting befitting an old beggar. "I must go and tell your mother you have returned safely," said she has been sick with worry. "Go carefully," Tmicus warned. Tell only her, not the suitors. After the

swine herd left, closing the door behind him, Adysius felt Athena's power wash over him. His disguise melted Away, his back straightened, and his withered skin grew smooth once more. His bald head sprouted thick hair, dark with threads of gray. The rags transformed into a clean tunic, and he stood before his son as himself for the first time in 20 years. "You are a god," Tmicus gasped upon seeing the transformation. "Please, whoever you are, have mercy on me." The spear in Tmicus' hand, raised in fear, nearly broke Adysius's heart. "I am no god," Odysius responded. his

voice almost cracking. I am your father. Come home at last. No. Tammicus shook his head, still gripping his spear. My father is dead or lost forever. You are some spirit trying to trick me, to give me hope, only to crush it. No mortal can change his appearance like that. Odysius understood. How many times had the boy dreamed of this moment? How many false hopes had he endured? Athena changed me, Odysius explained. The goddess can make me young or old, strong or weak, as she wishes. But I am truly Odysius. I am your father for whom

you have grieved. I have come back after 20 years of suffering. He reached out, unable to wait any longer. When Tmicus finally saw something in his face, some feature Penelope must have described a thousand times and threw Himself into his arms, Adysius felt complete for the first time since leaving Ithaca. He held his son. This stranger who was his blood, this man who should have grown up at his side. The years he had lost could never be recovered. But this moment, this embrace was worth all the suffering that had brought him here. They wept together,

father and son, 20 years of separation pouring out in their tears. When they could finally speak again, they sat close together, Tmicus, unable to stop staring at his father, as if he might vanish again if he looked away. How? Tmicus asked, "How did you come here? Where have you been? Mother said you were clever, that you would find a way home, but 20 years." Odysius told him everything quickly but thoroughly. The war, the Cyclops, the curse of Poseidon, the years of wandering. He told him of Calypso's Island, of the Fiatans who brought him home, of

Athena's plan. Now, Adysius said, his voice hardening, tell me of these suitors. How many? Who leads them? What weapons do they have? They spent hours planning. Tmicus described each suitor, their strengths and weaknesses, the crulest and strongest. Umus, the smoothest talker who acted polite while planning to kill them. The others who followed these two leaders like sheep. Tomorrow, Adysius instructed, you return to the palace as if nothing has happened. I will follow later as a beggar. No matter what you see, if they strike me, if they humiliate me, you must not react. Show no sign

that you know me. Father, I cannot watch them abuse you. You must. Our advantage is surprise. They believe I am dead. Let them continue believing until the moment we strike. When I give the signal, you must remove all weapons from the hall Where they feast. Tell them you are storing them away from the smoke of the fire. Leave only enough for us. Two swords, two spears, and two shields. Odysius gripped his son's shoulders. Listen closely, my boy. The only loyal servants are Umus and the cow herd Felicius. But even they cannot know yet. Not even

Penelope can know I have returned. A secret shared is a secret lost. And if the shooters learn I live, they will kill us both before we can Act. What of mother? Tmicus asked. She has waited so long, suffered so much. How can I look her in the eye and not tell her? Because you love her, Odysius said firmly. Her genuine grief, her true ignorance, these protect us all. When this is over, when the suitors lie dead, then she will know. But not before. As the sun began to set, they heard footsteps approaching quickly. Athena's power

washed over Adysius. By the time Umus entered, he was once again a Pitiful beggar. He brought news from the palace. Penelope rejoiced at Tmicus's return, but the suitors were furious that their planned ambush of him had failed. They were debating whether to try another assassination or to force Penelope to choose immediately. "Then we have little time," Tammicus said. Tomorrow I return to face them. Be careful, young master, warned. They grow desperate, and desperate men are dangerous. That night, as they shared a simple meal, Odysius watched his son by the firelight. Despite everything, he smiled. His

son had become a man he could be proud of. Sleep well, Adysius told him as they prepared for bed. Tomorrow we begin to take back what is ours. Part 16. Return to the palace. Odysius stood at the gates of his own palace, transformed once again into the old beggar by Athena's power. Tmicus had gone ahead as planned, and now Umus led him toward the great hall, warning him to expect cruelty from the men inside. The swine herd had no idea he was escorting the king himself to reclaim his throne. As they approached the courtyard, Odysius

stopped. There, abandoned on a heap of mule dung that servants would Later spread on the fields, was a dog, ancient and skeletal, covered in flies and sores. The creature could barely lift its head. But Adysius knew him instantly. This was Argus, the hunting dog he had raised from a pup, the one who used to sleep at his feet, who he had trained with his own hands before sailing to Troy. The dog's clouded eyes turned toward the approaching footsteps. Then something miraculous happened. Despite the disguise, despite 20 years of absence, Argus recognized his master. With tremendous

effort, the dying dog tried to drag himself forward, but his legs would not obey. All he could manage was the faintest movement of his tail, trying so hard to wag, and a soft whimper that said everything. "You came back. I waited. You came back." Odysius felt his throat close with grief. Tears burnt behind his eyes as he Watched his faithful friend struggle even to lift his head. He wanted to run to Argus, to hold him, to tell him what a good dog he had been, to thank him for waiting, but he could not. One word,

one gesture, and his disguise would shatter. "Whose dog is that?" he managed to ask, his voice barely steady. He must have been magnificent once. "That's Argus," You may have said quietly. "He belonged to our lost king, Adysius. Once the fastest, finest Hunting dog in all of Ithaca. He could track a wounded deer for miles, catch any hair." But when his master never returned from Troy, everyone forgot about him. He should have died years ago. But somehow he's held on all this time. Still waiting for Adysius to come home. Odysius forced himself to walk past each

step agony. He could not look back. He could not say goodbye. Behind him, Argus watched his master Disappear into the palace. Then after 20 years of waiting, 20 years of refusing to die, the old dog finally closed his eyes and let go. His wait was over. His master had come home. In all his years of war and wandering, nothing had broken Adysius's heart quite like this moment. walking past his loyal companion, who died the moment his vigil was complete. Inside the great hall, Adysius saw what his home had become. Over a hundred Young men lounged

on benches and chairs that had once seated honest guests. They shouted and laughed, throwing bones at each other, wine staining the floors where his father had once walked. servants scured between them, heads down, trying to avoid notice. Look, one of the suitors called out, spotting the beggar. You may has brought us entertainment. Tell us, old man. Have you come to compete for scraps with the dogs? Laughter rippled through the hall. Odysius kept his eyes down, playing his part, and began to move amongst them with his beggar's pouch, asking for charity, as any wanderer might. Some

gave him crusts of bread, amused by his presence. Others ignored him. But Antinuis, the crulest of them all, sneered when Adysius approached. "Get away from me, you diseased old fool," Antinuis said. We have enough parasites in this hall without adding another. Young Lord, Adysius replied mildly. Surely from such abundance you can spare a crust. You feast like kings in this house. I'll give you something. Antinuis snarled. He picked up a foottool and hurled it at Odysius, striking him hard in the back. The blow would have knocked down an ordinary old man. Adysius barely moved, solid

as a rock, but quickly made himself [clears throat] stagger to keep up his disguise. The hall fell silent for a moment. Even amongst the suitors, there were some who felt this went too far, striking a beggar, a suppliant who had asked for bread, violated the basic laws of hospitality that Zeus himself protected. "That was poorly done," Antinuous, one of the other suitors muttered. What if he's a god in disguise? The immortals often test us this way. But Antinuis just laughed, and soon the others joined in. Odysius retreated to a corner, his Back genuinely aching from

the blow, memorizing Antinuis's face for what was to come. As he sat in the corner, another figure entered the hall. Another beggar, but this one well known to the suitors. Iris was his name. a large man who made himself useful to the young lords by running errands and fighting for their amusement. He saw Adysius and immediately recognized a threat to his position. Get out, Iris said, standing over Adysius. This is my territory. These nobles are my patrons. Find another hall to beg in or I'll drag you out by your ankles. The suitors perked up, sensing

entertainment. A FIGHT, Antininois called out with delight. Let these beggars provide us with sport. The victor shall feast upon the roasted goat's stomach, while the defeated shall be cast into the street. They formed a circle, pushing Adysius And Iris into the center. Odysius rose slowly from the ground as if his aged bones protested every movement. But as he stood his cloak fell open, revealing his arms and legs beneath. Gasps ran through the crowd. Beneath the weathered skin lay thick muscle, scarred from battles, still carrying terrible strength. The color drained from Iris's face as he understood

his mistake. I am but an old man, Odysius announced to the crowd. I seek no quarrel with Anyone. But if I must fight for my bread, then I shall fight. When Iris swung wildly at him, Odysius held back. One real blow would shatter the man's skull and expose his disguise. He caught Iris with a controlled strike to the jaw, hard enough to convince the watching crowd, but gentle enough to leave the man alive. Instantly, Iris crumpled to the floor, blood streaming from his mouth. The suitors erupted with laughter and Cheers, suddenly warming to this formidable

old wanderer. They pressed the promised food into his hands and filled his cup with wine, treating him like a victor in the games. Adysius bowed and thanked them for their generosity, all the while studying each face and learning each name for what was to come. They laughed and drank around him, these dead men, who did not yet know they had already been condemned. As evening fell, word reached Penelope That a new beggar had arrived, one who claimed to have news of Adysius. She sent word that she would see him, and Adysius found himself climbing the

stairs to the upper chambers where his wife waited. She sat by the fire, and even in the flickering light, even with 20 years of sorrow etched on her face. She was beautiful. Odysius had to clench his fists to keep from going to her, from revealing himself immediately. But there Were servants present, and any one of them might be loyal to the suitors. "Stranger, they say you have wandered far across the earth," Penelope said, measuring each word. "Tell me truly. Have you heard anything of my husband?" "Does Adysius still live?" Odysius spun her a careful tale,

mixing truth with fiction. He claimed to have met Adysius years ago in Cree, describing him perfectly, the brooch he Wore, the purple cloak she had woven for him, details only someone who had truly seen him would know. Penelopey wept at these descriptions. Adysius sat rigid on his stool, fighting every instinct to go to her. Here was his beloved wife suffering before his eyes, and he could end it with a word. But still, he held to his disguise. I have heard, he continued, choosing his words with care, that Odysius lives and is making his way home.

His ships are Lost, his men drowned, but the man himself survived. "You will see him soon, my lady, before this month ends, I believe." She looked at him sharply, hope and skepticism waring in her eyes. "Many have told me such stories. All have proven false." "This one is true," Odysius said firmly. "Your husband will return and deal with these men who plague your house." Penelope studied him for a long moment, And something flickered in her expression. Not quite recognition, but something. Then she called for the old nurse Uracle. This stranger has brought me kind words,

she said. Wash his feet and prepare a proper bed for him. Treat him with the honor we once showed all guests before this house forgot what hospitality meant. Uraclair brought a bronze basin filled with warm water. Time had aged Her, but Adysius knew those hands, the same ones that had held him as an infant, that had nursed his fevers and bandaged his wounds. This woman had raised him more truly than his own mother. As she knelt to wash his feet, Odysius tensed. His thigh bore an old scar from a boar's tusk, a mark from his

youth that Uralair knew as well as her own palm. If she saw it, everything would unravel. He tried to turn away from the fire Light to keep his leg in shadow, but the old woman's hands were steady despite her age. As she washed his leg, her fingers found the scar and traced its familiar length. She knew it instantly. The bronze basin crashed to the floor, water spreading across the stones. Uraclair looked up at him, tears already forming, her mouth opening to cry out his name. Odysius reached out quickly, his hand covering her mouth before she

could speak. Not a word, he whispered Urgently. "Not a sound, dear nurse, or you'll destroy everything." "Yes, I am, Adysius, but if the suitors learn this, they'll kill me and Tmacus and everyone loyal to this house." The old woman nodded, her hands trembling as she touched his face, assuring herself he was real. My boy, she whispered. My dear boy, home at last. Tell no one, Odysius repeated. Not even Penelope. Soon, very soon, this will End, but not yet. Uraclair composed herself with effort, cleared away the spilled water, and returned with a fresh basin. This time,

as she washed his feet, every touch was a prayer of gratitude. Her lost king had come home. She left in silence when she finished, but Adysius saw how her whole body shook with the effort of containing her joy. Penelope, who had been strangely distracted during all of this, looking Into the fire as if lost in thought, turned back towards him. "Tomorrow," she said suddenly, "I will announce a contest. My husband's great bow hangs in the storoom, the one only he could string. I will challenge the suitors to string it, and shoot an arrow through 12

axe handles, as Odysius used to do for sport. Whoever succeeds will become my husband. I cannot wait any longer. Odysius's heart raced. Whether by divine inspiration or her own Cleverness, Penelope had just given him the perfect opportunity. "That seems wise, my lady," he said carefully. "I believe Odysius would approve. In fact, I'm certain he will be here before any suitor can string that bow. She looked at him again with that strange expression, as if seeing through his disguise, but choosing not to acknowledge it. "We shall see," she said softly, her eyes drifting to the window.

Outside the full moon cast silver light across the harbor, illuminating the very beach where a king once sailed to war. We shall see. As Adysius left her chamber and was guided to the room Uracle had prepared for him, his mind was already working through the next day's plan. The bow contest would gather all the suitors in one place, focused on the competition. They would be unarmed except for their swords with Tmacus having taken their Spears as instructed. Tomorrow the slaughter would begin. Tomorrow he would reclaim what was his, but tonight he lay on a bed

in his own house, listening to the drunken snoring of men who would soon be dead. Part 17, the archery contest. The next morning, the great hall filled with anticipation. Penelopey descended the stairs carrying Odysius's bow, a massive weapon of polished horn that caught the morning Light. Behind her, servants carried 12 axes, and set them in a straight line, their handles planted firmly in the earthn floor. The rings at the top of each handle aligned perfectly. "Lords of Ithaca and the islands," Penelope announced, her voice reaching every corner. "I have delayed long enough. Today, I will

choose a husband. Here is the great bow of Adysius. Whoever can string it and shoot an arrow through all 12 ax rings, as my husband Used to do, that man I will marry. The suitors erupted in excited conversation. This was it, the prize they had waited years to claim. They cast lots to determine the order. Yet it was Tmicus who stepped forward first. I should try before any of you, he said. If I can string my father's bow and make the shot, then my mother stays in this house as my guest, not as another man's

wife. Three times Tmicus tried to string the Bow. On the third attempt he nearly succeeded. The bow began to bend. The string approached the notch, but he caught Adysius's watching gaze, saw the subtle shake of his father's head from the corner where he sat, and let the bow spring back. I lack the strength, Tmacus said, though everyone had seen how close he had come. Perhaps one of you older, stronger men will succeed. One by one the suitors tried. First Leodis, the priest amongst them, whose soft hands were torn bloody by the bowring before he gave

up. Then others, each in turn, their faces growing red with effort, veins bulging in their necks as they fought to bend the ancient weapon. They ordered a fire built closer to warm the bow, thinking the horn might be stiff from disuse. They rubbed it with fat to make it supple. Nothing helped. The bow remained unbent, unconquered, as if it were waiting for Its true master. While the strongest suitors prepared for their attempts, Adysius slipped out to the courtyard where you may stood with Felicius, a loyal cow herd who had served the house since before he

had left for Troy. Tell me honestly, he said to them quietly, "If Adysius suddenly returned, would you fight for him or for the suitors?" Both men swore they would die for their True king, and Adysius revealed himself, showing them the scar as proof. They were overjoyed and tried to embrace him, but he stopped them quickly. "There's no time," he said. "Here's what you must do. You bring the bow to me when the suitors have all failed. Ignore their protests. Felicious, bar the doors to the hall once I have the bow. Let no one in or

out. Now go and show no emotion when you return. Back inside, Uriicus was straining with The bow, his handsome face twisted with effort. "This bow will be the death of us," he gasped as he gave up. "Not because we lose Penelope, but because we'll be shamed forever, too weak to string the bow that Adysius drew so easily." Antinuous, saving himself for last, suggested they postpone the contest until tomorrow after making proper sacrifices to Apollo, the god of archery. The others Agreed, relieved to have an excuse for their failure. It was then that Adysius spoke from

his corner. Noble lords, might a beggar try his luck with the bow? I was strong once before suffering broke me. Let me see if any of that strength remains. The hall erupted in laughter. A beggar touching the bow, competing with them. Antinuous threatened to have him shipped off to King Echitus, who cut off men's Noses and ears for sport. But Penelope intervened. The stranger is my guest. He obviously cannot marry me, even if he succeeds. But if he strings the bow, I'll give him new clothes and safe passage anywhere he wishes to go. Tmicus then

stood, playing his part perfectly. Mother, he said firmly, the bow is mine by inheritance. I alone decide who may try it. This is no longer your concern. Go to your chamber with your women, and tend to your weaving. The bow is men's business now, and mine above all, for I am master in this house." Penelope stared at her son in shock. He had never spoken to her this way before, never claimed his authority so forcefully. The suitors, too, were surprised. The boy they had mocked was suddenly speaking like a king. She opened her mouth to

protest, then closed it, her years of wisdom telling her that something had changed, though she didn't Know what. With a long searching look at the beggar, then at her son, she turned and climbed the stairs to her chamber. As soon as she had gone, Umeus picked up the bow and began carrying it towards Adysius. The suitors shouted threats demanding he put it down. Tmicus countered with threats of his own. In the confusion, Umus reached Adysius and placed the bow in his hands. At the same moment, Felicius quietly Barred the doors. Part 18. The suitors. Odysius

held his bow for the first time in 20 years. He turned it slowly, examining every inch, checking for worm damage or rot. The suitors laughed, mocking him for examining it like a merchant appraising goods. Then, as easily as a musician strings a liar, Adysius strung the great bow. The suitor's laughter died. He plucked the string, and it made a clear, sharp sound That vibrated through the hall. Outside, thunder rumbled overhead as Zeus showed his approval. Still seated on his stool, Odysius fitted an arrow to the string. He drew, aimed, and released. The arrow, just as

he had intended, flew true through all 12 ax rings before burying itself in the far wall. The feast ends, Odysius said as he rose to his feet. Time now for a different sport. Before anyone could move, before anyone could speak, he had Another arrow knocked. This one flew straight into Antinine's throat just as the man lifted a golden cup to his lips. Blood poured into the wine, and Antinuous toppled backward, his feet kicking over the table as he died. Confusion erupted through the hall. The suitors leapt up, searching the walls where weapons should hang, finding

only empty pegs. Tmicus had done his work well. They had nothing but their eating knives and whatever swords THEY CARRIED. YOU'LL DIE FOR THIS. Um shouted. YOU'VE KILLED THE GREATEST NOBLE IN ITHACA. In answer, Odysius stripped away his beggar's rags, revealing himself in full. dogs. You thought I'd never return from Troy. You consumed my wealth, abused my servants, and courted my wife while I still lived. You feared neither gods nor men. Today you learn the price of that arrogance. Terror drained the color from every face. Urimicus stumbled forward, hands Spread as he tried to bargain,

to blame the dead and tinuous, to promise repayment for all they had consumed. His speech ended when Adysius put an arrow through his chest. The man collapsed across the feasting table, his swords spinning away across the floor. What followed was pandemonium. Some suitors ran for the doors and found them barred fast. Others scrambled for the empty weapon pegs, unable to believe they held nothing. Tables were Overturned to serve as shields. Men shouted orders that no one followed. Those with swords drew them, but in the confined space, surrounded by panicking bodies, they could barely move. Adysius

stood at his vantage point, shooting arrow after arrow. Each shot found its mark. Men fell clutching their throats, their chests, their bellies. Bodies began to pile near the exits as the desperate tried to escape. While his father continued his work, Tmacus Slipped away to the storoom. He returned with armor and spears for Adysius, Umeus, and Filicius, with the four of them standing together, properly armed at last. But the goat herd Melantheus had also found his way to that storeroom. Loyal to the suitors who had fed him well, he managed to bring swords and spears to

some of them before Umeas and Felicius caught him making a second trip. They bound him tight and hauled him up to the rafters, leaving him Hanging there for later judgment. When Adysius's arrows were spent, 30 suitors lay dead, but 70 still lived. Now they had weapons, though they remained trapped in the hall. The suitors, desperate, threw spears in organized volleys. But Athena appeared, disguised as mentor yet again, deflecting their weapons with a flick of her wrist. When Adysius and his three companions threw their spears in return, everyone found its mark. The suitors regrouped For one

final charge, but Athena chose that moment to unleash her full divine power. Rising above them, she unfurled her eegis, the golden shield adorned with Medusa's horrific face. The suitor's minds shattered at the sight, panic consuming them utterly. They ran without purpose or direction, some falling to their knees, others trampling the wounded in their frenzy to escape. What followed was a massacre. Adysius and his three companions moved through The hall without mercy. Every stroke found flesh. Every thrust ended a life as blood pulled on the marble floor. Amidst the chaos, Leodes the priest fell to his

knees and clasped Adysius's legs, begging for mercy. He swore he had never touched a serving woman, that he had tried to restrain the others worst excesses. Adysius brought his sword down without hesitation, the priest's head rolling away, his lips still moving in a silent plea. Only two were spared. Femas The bard and mem the herald, and only because Tmicus vouched that they had served under compulsion, not choice. Then it was finished. The great hall stood silent, but for blood dripping from the walls and table edges. Bodies lay everywhere, piled like fish hauled onto a beach.

Odysius stood in their midst, drenched in gore, his chest heaving, the fury of 20 years finally spent. He called for old Uralair. But when she Entered and saw the slaughter, she raised her voice to sing in triumph. But Adysius cut her short. No celebration over the dead. He said, "These men were destroyed by fate and their own wickedness." Now tell me, which of the servant women betrayed this house? 12 maids had taken the suitors as lovers, mocking Penelope and dishonoring the household. Adysius had them brought to clean the Hall, to carry out the bodies of

the men they had embraced. They wept as they worked, scrubbing blood from the floors and walls. After the hall was cleaned, Tmicus marched them to the courtyard. "You don't deserve a clean death," he said, remembering their cruelty to his mother. He denied them the quick death of a blade. Instead, he strung them up from a rope stretched between two pillars, sending them to join their Lovers in the underworld. For Meanthus, a cruer fate awaited. They dragged him down from the rafters and into the courtyard where justice would be served for his treachery. They removed his

extremities one by one. First his hands that had armed the suitors, then his feet that had run to betray his master. They left him bleeding in the dirt to contemplate his choices as his life ebbed away. Finally, Odysius had the hall purified With burning sulfur. As the smoke cleared, loyal servants emerged from their hiding places. When they recognized their true king beneath the blood and grime, they fell upon him weeping, kissing his hands and face. Odicius wept with them, overcome by their faithfulness. They who had remained true through 20 years of suffering. Part 19. Penelope.

Uraclair ran to Penelopey's chamber where Athena had made sure that the queen slept through the slaughter. "Wake up, my lady," the old nurse cried. "He's home. Odysius is home. He's killed them all. Every last shooter. Anelope sat up slowly, her face skeptical. Dear nurse, have the gods driven you mad? Why do you mock me with such cruel lies? It's true. The beggar was Adysius all along. I saw the scar When I washed his feet, but he made me keep silent. Come and see. Even when Penelopey came down and saw Adysius sitting by the fire, no

longer the aged beggar, but a man in his prime, though still covered in blood, she held back. She sat opposite him, staring at his face in the firelight, saying nothing. "Mother," Tmicus said impatiently, "you is home after 20 years, and you sit there like a stone. What other woman would be so Hard-hearted? If this is truly Odysius, Penelope said carefully. He and I will know each other. We have signs between us that no one else knows. Odysius smiled slightly. Let her be, son. She's right to test me. I'll bathe and put on clean clothes. Then

we'll speak. When he returned, washed and dressed in royal robes, looking like a king again with Athena's help, Penelopey still held back. She studied him for a Long moment, then turned to the old nurse. "You're a Clare," she said calmly. "Move his great bed out of our bed chamber. Set it up for him elsewhere with fine blankets and fleeces." "Move our bed." Odysius's composer shattered. He shot to his feet, his voice rising in disbelief. What do you mean move it? Who has dared to enter our chamber? That bed cannot be moved. I built it myself

around the living olive tree. I shaped the trunk into the bed Post while it still grew from the earth, raised the room around it, inlaid the frame with gold and silver and ivory. To move that bed, one would have to cut through the tree itself. Tell me, Penelopey, has someone destroyed it? Has someone defiled our chamber? Penelopey's face transformed with joy? Odysius, she cried, running to him, throwing her arms around his neck. My husband, forgive me. I had to be sure. So many impostors have come claiming Your name. Only the true Adysius could know the

secret of our marriage bed. They held each other crying, neither able to let go. 20 years of separation, of loneliness, of doubt and fear and stubborn hope. All of it poured forth as they clung together. Penelope traced his weathered features with trembling fingers, finding beneath the new lines and scars the man she had married. Adysius buried his face in her hair, breathing in her familiar scent, feeling Her tears warm against his neck, knowing that he had found at last what Troy and all the seas had kept from him. He was home. They talked through the

night, sharing their stories. Odysius told her everything, the wandererings, the monsters, the gods, the losses. She told him of her tricks to delay the suitors, how she had woven Leert's funeral shroud by day and unraveled it by night for 3 years, how she had never Wavered in her faith that he would return, even when all of Ithaca declared him dead. As dawn approached, Athena held back the sunrise, extending the darkness as her gift to the couple who had endured so much. In their bed built around the olive tree, the bed that could never be moved,

Odysius and Penelope found each other again, and for those precious hours, the rest of the world fell away. In the days that followed, Odysius Restored order to his kingdom. He made peace with the families of the slain suitors, guided by Athena's wisdom to prevent the cycle of vengeance from continuing. Old Leotes lived to see his son take his rightful place on the throne. And though Tyreseius had prophesied one final journey that Adysius must undertake in his old age, a journey inland with an oe on his shoulder, until he found people who knew nothing of the

sea, that tale Belonged to the distant future. For now the war was truly over. The wandering had ended. The king and queen of Ithaca ruled together once more, their love having survived the ultimate test of 20 years apart. And so ends the Odyssey, the story of Adysius, the man of many troubles, who saw the cities of many men and learned their minds, who suffered greatly on the seas, and who proved that neither gods nor monsters nor time itself could keep A determined heart from finding its way home. For 3,000 years, his story has been told.

Wherever people gather, wherever ships sail, wherever wanderers seek their way back to those who wait for them, the journey of Adysius had ended at last. But his story, like all great stories, will never truly end. I've been David Renul for Deep Dive History. If you enjoyed our retelling of the Odyssey and want to find out what happens to Adysius next, his adventures, his fate, and his tragic death, then join our channel membership and watch our bonus episode, The End of Adysius. And while you're there, check out our entire catalog of bonus content. Here we have

exclusive stories, bonus episodes, and interviews with professors and industry experts. From a 2-hour epic retelling of Jason and the Argonauts to A deep dive on Homer and the authors of Greek mythology. Access it all by joining the channel membership today.