Book XII · Ῥαψωδία μ

So once our ship had fully clocked out of that river current of Ocean,

and slid right back into the swell of the wide-open sea, no drama whatsoever,

heading for the island Aiaia, where rosy-fingered Dawn keeps her whole crib,

where she throws her little dance parties and the sun clocks in to start its shift,

that's the spot where we ran her up onto the sand and beached her, smooth as you like,

And right there we crashed out hard and just camped, waiting for divine Dawn to pull up.

Then the second rosy-fingered Dawn showed early, serving that morning glow and doing her early-bird thing,

that's when I shipped the boys back over to Circe's place, no dawdling,

to go scoop up the body of Elpenor, our homie who'd died on us.

and we buried him, fully gutted, fat tears just streaming down the whole lot of us.

But once the body had gone up in flames and the dead man's gear burned with it,

we heaped up a mound, dragged a stone marker right up on top of it,

then planted a proper well-cut oar dead centre at the very peak of the grave.

she clocked us the second we rocked back from Hades, didn't miss a single beat, and quick

she came through all dressed to the nines, and her maids hauled out beside her

bread and loads of meat and that gleaming red wine, the whole spread laid out.

And she planted herself dead centre of the lot of us, that goddess, and went off:

out here dying twice when every other mortal just dies the once and calls it a day.

But come on now, get the food in you and put that wine away,

park up here for the whole entire day: then soon as Dawn shows her face

you ship out. And me, I'll map the route and lay out every single bit of it,

on sea or on land, ever leaves you catching pain you never clocked coming."

That's what she said, and our proud hearts went yeah, bet, we're fully locked in.

So for the rest of that whole day, right up until the sun dipped under,

we sat there feasting on endless meat and that sweet wine, fully living our best lives.

the boys settled down to crash out by the ship's stern lines,

but she took me by the hand, pulled me off well away from my crew,

sat me down, lay in close, and quizzed me on every last detail:

and me, I laid the whole thing out for her, point by point, in proper order.

"Right, so all of that's been seen clean through to the end now: but lock in, lad,

because I'm gonna spell it right out, and a god himself will jog your memory too.

First up you're gonna run smack into the Sirens, the ones who put a spell

on every single soul who so much as drifts anywhere near them.

off the Sirens, no wife, no little kids come running up to greet him

when he gets back home, no warm welcome, none of it, nothing at all,

because the Sirens charm him senseless with that clear, gorgeous singing,

parked there in their meadow: and ringed all round them, a heap of bones,

But you, just floor it straight past, and pack your crew's ears tight

with honey-sweet beeswax, kneaded soft, so not one of them can catch a thing,

none of the others: but you, if your heart's dead set on actually hearing it,

have them lash you up on the fast ship, hands and feet both,

so you can vibe to the Sirens' voices and really live the whole sound.

And if you start begging, telling your crew to set you loose,

that's their cue to tie you down with even more rope, way way tighter.

But once your crew has rowed you clean past those two,

which of the two routes is yours: nah, you'll have to read it yourself

deep in your own head: but I'll walk you through both ways regardless, no stress.

On the one side you've got these overhanging cliffs, and slamming against them

the great swell of dark-eyed Amphitrite comes booming on in:

Not even the flyers slip past there, not even the timid little doves

that ferry ambrosia up to Father Zeus, no chance, not one:

because the bare rock always swipes one of them clean away,

and the father has to slot a fresh one in to keep the count even.

no, the planks of the ships plus the bodies of the sailors

get swept off together by the waves and the squalls of murderous fire.

Only the one sea-crossing ship ever threaded that needle clean,

the Argo, the one everybody's obsessed with, sailing home from Aietes:

except Hera saw her safe through, since Jason was her absolute favourite.

Then you've got the two crags: one of them stabs up at the wide sky

with this razor peak, and a cloud sits wrapped right round it,

a dark one: it never once lets up, no clear sky ever

No mortal man could ever scale it, couldn't even get a grip on it,

not even if the guy had twenty hands and twenty feet on him,

because the rock is smooth as anything, like somebody buffed it all the way round.

And halfway up that crag there's a cave, all hazy and dim,

are gonna steer your hollow ship past, my golden Odysseus.

And no strong young man could fire an arrow off a hollow ship

and stick it in that hollow cave, no chance, it sits up that high.

And in there lives Scylla, screeching out something to freeze your blood solid.

little yelp: but she herself is a horror, pure evil: not a soul

would feel even a flicker of joy clocking her, not even a god that crossed her path.

She's got twelve feet on her, all of them dangling and useless,

and six necks stretched out impossibly long, and on each single one

thick and crammed right together, fully loaded with black death.

The middle of her stays sunk way down inside that hollow cave,

but she shoves her heads out past the rim of the grim pit,

and right there she fishes, sweeping all round the crag,

the monsters that groaning Amphitrite breeds by the literal thousand.

No sailors have ever bragged about clearing her unscathed, not one,

no, with every single head she snatches up and carries clean off

one man, ripped right out of a dark-prowed ship.

the two of them sitting close: you could shoot an arrow clean across.

On that one there's a big fig tree, all leafy and properly thriving:

and right underneath it, divine Charybdis sucks the dark water down.

Three times a day she heaves it back up, three times she gulps it down,

because not even the earth-shaker himself could yank you out of that mess.

So hug the crag of Scylla tight as anything and drive

your ship on past quick, because honestly it's way better

to mourn six of your crew than to lose the entire lot in one go."

"Hold up, goddess, give me the straight, no-cap truth on this one thing:

is there any way I duck that deadly Charybdis

but still fight off the other one when she comes lunging for my crew?"

That's what I said, and right away that goddess fired straight back:

the grind of it: you won't even back down to the deathless gods, will you?

She's not mortal, she's an undying evil, and that's the whole catch,

something terrible and brutal and feral, no fighting it whatsoever,

no defence works on her: legging it is the strongest play, full stop.

I'm scared she lunges out at you a second time and clocks you

with every one of those heads, snatching as many men as last go.

So drive past hard as you possibly can, and call out to Krataiis,

the mum of Scylla, the one who birthed her as a curse on us mortals:

Then you'll fetch up at the island of Thrinacia: and there in big numbers

the cattle of Helios graze, plus his sturdy flocks of sheep.

Seven herds of cattle, and just as many gorgeous flocks of sheep,

fifty head in each. They don't breed, those ones, not ever,

nymphs with gorgeous braids, Phaethousa and Lampetie,

the ones divine Neaira birthed to Helios Hyperion.

And once their queenly mum had birthed them and raised them up right,

she packed them off to the island of Thrinacia, way out far,

If you leave those untouched and keep your head fully locked on the comeback,

then yeah, beat up as you'll be, you might still make it home to Ithaca:

but if you lay a single hand on them, then I'm calling it now, ruin for you,

for your ship and your crew. And even if you yourself slip away,

That's what she said, and right away golden-throned Dawn pulled up.

Then off she went, back up the island, that goddess,

while I headed down to the ship and got my crew moving sharp,

told them to climb aboard and cast off the stern lines.

and sat there in their tidy rows and slapped the grey sea with the oars.

And behind us, off the stern of our dark-prowed ship,

she sent a fair wind to belly out the sail, a solid travelling mate,

Circe with the gorgeous braids, that scary goddess with a human voice.

we sat back: and the wind and the helmsman kept her dead on course.

And that's when I spoke up to my crew, proper sick at heart:

"Listen, lads, it's straight up not right that just one or two of us

should be holding the prophecies Circe handed me, that goddess:

or whether we dodge the death and the doom and slip clean clear of it.

First off she said to steer wide of the voice of the Sirens,

those uncanny ones, and that flowery little meadow of theirs.

She said I'm the only one cleared to hear it: but tie me up

bolt upright against the mast, with the ropes tied off snug to it.

And if I start begging you to set me loose,

that's your cue to press me down with even more rope, way way tighter."

So I laid each thing out, spelling it clean for my crew,

to the Sirens' island: because that easy wind kept driving us on hard.

Then all of a sudden the wind cut clean out and a flat calm

settled right in, not a single breath, some spirit lulled the waves to sleep.

And the crew stood up and rolled the sail in tight,

and churned the water white with the polished pine blades.

Meanwhile I sliced a big round of beeswax up with the sharp bronze

into little chunks and squeezed it down hard in my strong hands,

and quick the wax went soft, because my heavy grip forced it

and I packed it into the ears of every last one of the crew.

Then they lashed me up on the ship, hands and feet both,

bolt upright against the mast, with the ropes tied off snug to it,

and they sat back down and slapped the grey sea with the oars.

moving along quick, the racing ship didn't slip by them unnoticed,

pulling up close, so they tuned up that clear, gorgeous song:

"Pull up this way, glorious Odysseus, the big pride of the Achaeans,

park your ship right here, so you can listen to the two of us.

without first stopping to drink the honeyed voice off our lips,

no, he comes away buzzing and knowing way way more than before.

Because we know it all, every bit of pain that went down in wide Troy,

all that the Argives and the Trojans suffered by the gods' will,

That's what they sang, pouring out that gorgeous voice: and my heart

was desperate to listen, and I told my crew to set me loose,

nodding hard at them with my eyebrows: but they just fell forward rowing.

And straight off Perimedes and Eurylochus jumped right up

But once they'd rowed us clean past them and we couldn't anymore

catch the Sirens' voice or even pick up the song,

right away my loyal crew scraped off the wax

I'd packed in their ears, and they freed me right out of the ropes.

I clocked smoke and a great swell and heard this pounding roar.

And the lads lost it in pure terror and the oars flew clean from their hands,

and the whole lot went clattering down the current: and the ship

hung dead in the water, since they weren't driving the long oars anymore.

hitting each man with soft, steadying words, standing right by him:

"Listen, lads, it's honestly not like we're total rookies at hardship:

this is no bigger an evil, on god, than back when the Cyclops

had us cornered in his hollow cave with that brute strength of his:

we got clean out, and I reckon you'll be retelling this one too one day.

But for now come on, do exactly what I say, all of us:

you lot, parked there at the oarlocks, keep beating

the deep surf with your blades, in case Zeus somehow

and you, helmsman, this is my order for you, get it

locked right in your head, since you're working the steering oar of this ship:

keep the ship well clear of all that smoke and that swell,

push hard for the crag, in case she catches you slipping,

That's what I said, and they jumped on my words right away.

But I left Scylla out of it, that hopeless, unwinnable agony,

in case my crew got so spooked they'd quit

the rowing and bunch themselves right up below decks.

the bit where she'd told me flat out not to gear up for a fight at all:

but I pulled on my famous armour anyway and grabbed two long

spears in my hands and climbed straight up onto the deck

at the bow: because that's exactly where I reckoned she'd show first,

But I couldn't make her out anywhere: my eyes wore right out

straining every which way at that hazy rock face.

So we sailed up the narrows wailing the whole way through:

because on the one side sat Scylla, and on the other divine Charybdis

And whenever she spewed it back up, like a cauldron over a roaring fire

the whole thing churned and seethed and boiled right over, and high up the spray

came raining down on the tops of both the crags.

But whenever she gulped the salt water of the sea back down,

boomed something terrible, and underneath, the seabed showed

dark with sand: and a sickly green dread had hold of the men.

We were locked on her, dreading the ruin barrelling our way,

and that's the moment Scylla snatched six of my crew clean out of the hollow ship,

And when I glanced back at the fast ship and looked round for my crew,

right then I caught the feet and the hands of them, up

overhead, lifted high into the air: and they screamed out my name,

calling out for me, that one last time, hearts breaking.

casts down bait as a trick for the little fish,

flinging the horn of a field-grazing ox out into the sea,

then grabs each one writhing and chucks it up onto land,

that's exactly how they got hauled up to the rocks, writhing.

hands stretched out to me in that brutal, awful struggle.

That, no joke, was the most pitiful thing I've ever laid eyes on

in person, of everything I went through working the sea-roads.

But once we'd escaped the rocks and the terrible Charybdis

flawless island: and there were the gorgeous wide-browed cattle,

and loads of the sturdy flocks of Helios Hyperion.

And right then, while I was still out at sea in my black ship,

I caught the lowing of cattle penned up snug in their stalls

the words of the blind prophet, Theban Tiresias,

and of Circe of Aiaia, who'd warned me over and over again

to steer well clear of the island of Helios, the joy of mortals.

And right then I spoke up to my crew, proper sick at heart:

so I can lay on you the prophecies of Tiresias

and of Circe of Aiaia, who warned me over and over again

to steer well clear of the island of Helios, the joy of mortals:

because right there, she said, the worst evil of all is waiting on us.

That's what I said, and their hearts crumbled right in their chests.

And straight off Eurylochus hit me back with this hateful little speech:

"You're a hard man, Odysseus, fierce past all of it, and your limbs

never tire: honestly you must be built clean out of iron,

set one foot on dry land, where on this water-ringed island

we could finally cook ourselves up a proper meal:

but no, you order us to wander straight on through the fast-falling night,

swept right off the island, out on the hazy open sea.

how's anyone meant to dodge a steep, sheer death

if some sudden squall of wind comes blasting up out of nowhere,

either off the south or the nasty west, the ones that mostly

tear a ship clean to bits, and never mind the lordly gods?

get our meal sorted, sticking close by the fast ship:

and at dawn we'll climb aboard and push out onto the wide sea."

That's what Eurylochus said, and the rest of the crew backed him.

And right then I clocked it: some spirit was plotting evil on us,

"Eurylochus, yeah, you lot are really forcing my hand, me being just the one man.

But come on then, every single one of you swear me a binding oath:

if we come across some herd of cattle or big flock of sheep,

not one of us, in some reckless lapse of the head,

and eat the food immortal Circe handed us, simple as that."

That's what I said, and right away they swore it exactly like I asked.

But once they'd sworn it and sealed the oath right to the end,

we parked our well-built ship up in the hollow harbour

off the ship, then put together a meal like they knew the drill.

But once they'd absolutely demolished the drink and the food and the craving backed off,

that's when it hit them and they started crying for their dear crew,

the ones Scylla had snatched and eaten clean out of the hollow ship:

And when it was the third watch of the night and the stars had wheeled over,

Zeus the cloud-gatherer whipped up a screaming wind

with an uncanny gale, and with clouds he wrapped right up

the land and the sea together: and night burst out of the sky.

we moored the ship, hauling her right up into a hollow cave:

and there were the lovely dancing-spots of the Nymphs and their seats.

And right then I called everyone together and said my piece:

"Listen, lads, we've still got food and drink stashed in the fast ship,

because these are the cattle and sturdy flocks of a scary god,

Helios, the one who sees absolutely everything and hears everything too."

That's what I said, and their proud hearts went yeah, we're fully with it.

But for a whole month the south wind blew without a single break, and not one

And as long as the crew still had bread and red wine to spare,

they kept clean off the cattle, because they were desperate to stay alive:

but once all the ship's supplies had run bone dry,

and they were out there roaming, forced into hunting,

on bent hooks: and the hunger kept gnawing away at their bellies,

that's when I went off up the island, to pray to the gods

in case any one of them might show me a road back home.

But once I'd cut clean across the island and slipped away from my crew,

I prayed to all the gods who hold Olympus:

and they poured sweet sleep all over my eyelids.

And Eurylochus started laying out a bad plan to the crew:

"Listen up, lads, beat down as you are, hear me out:

but the most pitiful is to die of hunger and meet your fate that way.

So come on, let's round up the best of Helios's cattle

and sacrifice them up to the deathless gods who hold the wide sky.

And if we do make it back to Ithaca, our homeland,

and load it up with loads of fine offerings, no expense spared at all.

But if he gets properly heated over his straight-horned cattle

and wants to sink our ship, with the other gods backing him up,

I'd rather gulp one mouthful of wave and lose my life on the spot

That's what Eurylochus said, and the rest of the crew backed him.

And right away they rounded up the best of Helios's cattle,

from close by: because they weren't grazing far off the dark-prowed

ship, those gorgeous twisty-horned wide-browed cattle:

plucking off tender leaves from a high-leafed oak,

because they'd run clean out of white barley on the well-benched ship.

And once they'd prayed and yanked the heads back and opened the throats and skinned them clean,

they carved out the thigh bones and wrapped them up in fat,

And they had no wine to pour out over the burning offerings,

so they poured one out with water instead and roasted off all the innards.

And once the thighs had gone up in flames and they'd had a taste of the organs,

they carved up the rest and spun it onto the spits.

and I set off back down to the fast ship and the edge of the sea.

But once I'd come walking close to the curved ship,

right then the sweet smell of roasting fat wrapped itself round me:

and I cried out, calling to the deathless gods:

you really lulled me to sleep for my own ruin with that pitiless rest,

while my crew, hanging back, cooked up this monstrous thing."

And quick a messenger went legging it off to Helios Hyperion,

Lampetie in her long robes, that we'd killed his precious cattle.

"Father Zeus, and the rest of you blessed gods who live forever,

make the crew of Odysseus, son of Laertes, pay up for this,

the ones who killed my cattle, the cattle I loved

laying eyes on, going up into the starry sky,

And if they don't pay me a fair price for those cattle,

I'll plunge down into Hades and shine for the dead instead."

And answering him straight back, Zeus the cloud-gatherer said:

"Helios, you keep right on shining for the immortals

and as for those ones, soon enough I'll smash their fast ship

to little bits with a blinding bolt out in the wine-dark sea."

And all this I heard from Calypso with the gorgeous hair:

and she said she'd caught it herself, straight from Hermes the guide.

I went at them one by one, ripping into the lot of them, but no fix

could we scrape together: the cattle were already dead and gone by then.

And right after that the gods started dropping them omens:

the hides went crawling, the meat bellowed right there on the spits,

Then for six straight days my loyal crew

feasted away, driving off the best of Helios's cattle:

but when Zeus, son of Kronos, brought the seventh day round,

right then the wind dropped off from its raging gale,

standing the mast bolt upright and hauling the white sail up high.

But once we'd left that island in our wake and no other

land showed up anywhere, just sky and sea, nothing else at all,

right then the son of Kronos parked a dark cloud

And she didn't run for very long: because quick there came

the west wind shrieking, blasting up in a great gale.

And the squall of wind snapped both the forestays clean

of the mast, and the mast came crashing backwards, and all the rigging

it cracked the helmsman square on the head, and smashed up the bones

of his skull all at once: and like a diver he

toppled clean off the deck, and his proud spirit left his bones.

And Zeus crashed out a thunderclap and hurled his bolt at the ship:

and filled right up with sulphur: and the crew dropped off the ship.

And like sea-crows scattered round the black ship

they got tossed about in the waves, and the god cancelled their whole comeback.

But me, I kept pacing the ship, until a wave

And the mast had snapped right down to the keel: but onto it

a backstay had dropped, the one fashioned out of oxhide:

so with that I lashed the two together, the keel and the mast,

and parked on top of them I got carried along by the deadly winds.

and the south wind came on quick, bringing fresh pain to my heart,

because now I'd have to measure out that deadly Charybdis all over again.

All night long I drifted, and as the sun was coming up

I came back round to Scylla's crag and the terrible Charybdis.

but I'd been heaved up high to that big fig tree,

and I clung onto it like a bat: I couldn't get

my feet planted anywhere solid, couldn't climb on at all,

because the roots were way out of reach, and the branches dangled high,

But I hung on stubbornly, waiting for her to spew back up

the mast and the keel: and to my relief they finally came,

late: at the hour a man gets up from court to head for his dinner,

the one who's been settling the loads of disputes of squabbling young men,

And I let my hands and feet drop loose to plunge down,

and I splashed down hard in the middle, just past those long timbers,

and parked on top of them I paddled along with my own two hands.

And the father of gods and men didn't let Scylla

From there I drifted nine days, and on the tenth night

the gods brought me near the island Ogygia, where Calypso

lives, the one with the gorgeous braids, that scary goddess with a human voice,

the one who loved me and looked after me. But why am I retelling you all this?

to you and your fine wife: and honestly it's a proper drag for me

to spell out loud and clear all over again stuff I've already said."