Chapter 5

So saying the lord of ocean took his trident and stirred up the deep; and the clouds came trooping at his call, covering the sky with a black curtain. Soon a great tempest broke loose, blowing in violent and fitful blasts from all the four quarters of heaven. Then pale fear got hold of Odysseus, as he saw the great curling billows heaving round his frail craft. "Woe is me!" he cried, "when shall my troubles have an end? Surely the goddess spoke truth, when she foretold me that I should perish amid the waves, and never see my home again. Here I lie helpless, given over to destruction, the sport of all the winds of heaven. Happy, thrice happy, were my comrades who fell fighting bravely and found honourable burial in the soil of Troy! Would that I had died on that great day when the battle raged fiercest over the body of Pelides; then should I have found death with honour, but now I am doomed to a miserable and dishonoured end."

The words were hardly uttered when a huge toppling wave struck the raft with tremendous force, carrying away mast and sail, and hurling Odysseus into the sea. Deep down he sank, and the waters darkened over his head, for he was encumbered by the weight of his clothes. At last he rose to the surface, gasping, and spitting out the brine, and though sore spent, he swam towards the raft, and hauled himself on board. There he sat clinging to the dismasted and rudderless vessel, which was tossed to and fro from wave to wave, as the winds of autumn sport with the light thistledown and drive it hither and thither.

But help was at hand. There was a certain ocean nymph, named Ino, daughter of Cadmus, who had once been a mortal woman, but now was numbered among the immortal powers. She saw and pitied Odysseus, and boarding the raft addressed him in this wise: "Poor man, why is Poseidon so wroth with thee that he maltreats thee thus? Yet shall he not destroy thee, for all his malice. Only do as I bid thee, and thou shalt get safely to land: take this veil, and when thou hast stripped off thy garments, bind it across thy breast. Then leave the raft to its fate, and swim manfully to land; and when thou art safe fling the veil back into the sea, and go thy way."

So saying the goddess sank beneath the waves, leaving Odysseus with her veil in his hand. But that cautious veteran did not at once act on her advice, for he feared that some treachery was intended against him. He resolved therefore to remain on the raft as long as her timbers held together, and only to have recourse to the veil in the last extremity.

He had just taken this prudent resolution, when another wave, more huge than the last, thundered down on the raft, scattering her timbers, as the wind scatters a heap of chaff. Odysseus clung fast to one beam and, mounting it, sat astride as on a horse, until he had stripped off his clothes. Then he bound the veil round him, flung himself head foremost into the billows, and swam lustily towards land.

The storm was now subsiding, and a steady breeze succeeded, blowing from the north, which helped that much-tried hero in his struggle for life. Yet for two days and two nights he battled with the waves, and when day broke on the third day he found himself close under a frowning wall of cliffs, at whose foot the sea was breaking with a noise like thunder. Odysseus ceased swimming, and trod the water, looking anxiously round for an opening in the cliffs where he might land. While he hesitated, a great foaming wave came rushing landward, threatening to sweep him against that rugged shore; but Odysseus saw his danger in time, and succeeded in gaining a rocky mass which stood above the surface just before him, and clutching it with hands and knees, contrived to keep his hold until the huge billow was past. In another moment he was caught by the recoil of the wave, and flung back into the boiling surf, with fingers torn and bleeding. With desperate exertions he fought his way out into the comparatively calm water, outside the line of breakers, and swam parallel to the shore, until he saw with delight a sheltered inlet, whence a river flowed into the sea. Murmuring a prayer to the god of the river he steered for land, and a few strokes brought him to a smooth sandy beach, where he lay for a long time without sense or motion. All his flesh was swollen by his long immersion in the water, the skin was stripped from his hands, and when his breath came back to him he felt as weak as a child. Then a deadly nausea came over him, and the water which he had swallowed gushed up through his mouth and nostrils. Somewhat relieved by this, he rose to his feet, and tottering to the river's brink loosed the veil from his waist, and dropped it into the flowing water. For he remembered the request of Ino, to whom he owed his life.

He had indeed escaped the sea; but his position seemed almost hopeless. There he lay, naked, and more dead than alive, without food or shelter, in a strange land, without a sign of human habitation in view. Crawling painfully to a bed of rushes he lay down and considered what was best for him to do. He could not remain where he was, for it was an exposed place, with no protection from the dew, and open to the chill breeze from the river, which blows at early dawn. A few hours of such a vigil would certainly kill him in his exhausted state. If, on the other hand, he sought the shelter of the woods, he feared that he would fall a prey to some prowling beast.

At last he determined to face the less certain peril, and made his way into a thicket not far from the river side. Searching for a place where he might lie he soon came upon two dense bushes of olive, whose leaves and branches were so closely interwoven that they formed a sort of natural arbour, impenetrable by sun, or rain, or wind. "In good time!" murmured Odysseus, as he crept beneath that green roof, and scooped out a deep bed for himself in the fallen leaves. There he lay down, and piled the leaves high over him. And as a careful housewife in some remote farmhouse, where there are no neighbours near, covers up a burning brand among the ashes, so that it may last all night, and preserve the seed of fire; so lay Odysseus, nursing the spark of life, in his deep bed of leaves. And soon he forgot all his troubles in a deep and dreamless sleep.

Odysseus among the Phæacians

I

The land on which Odysseus had thus been cast like a piece of broken wreckage was called Phæacia, and derived its name from the Phæacians, a race of famous mariners, who had settled there some fifty years before, having been driven from their former seat by the Cyclopes, a savage tribe, who dwelt on their borders. The Phæacians were an unwarlike people, and being in no condition to resist the fierce assaults of these lawless neighbours, they abandoned their homes and built a new city on a little peninsula, connected with the mainland by a narrow isthmus. Defended by strong walls they were now safe against all attacks, and they soon grew rich and prosperous in the exercise of a thriving trade.

At this time the king of the Phæacians was Alcinous, who had a fair daughter, named Nausicaä. On the night when Odysseus lay couched in his bed of leaves Nausicaä was sleeping in her bower, and with her were two handmaids, whose beds were set on either side of the door. And in a dream she seemed to hear one of her girlish friends, the daughter of a neighbouring house, speaking to her thus: "Nausicaä, why art thou grown so careless as to suffer all the raiment in thy father's house to remain unwashen, when thy bridal day is so near? Wouldst thou be wedded in soiled attire, and have all thy friends clad unseemly, to put thee to shame? These are a woman's cares, by which she wins a good report among men, and gladdens her mother's heart. Arise, therefore, at break of day, and beg thy father to let harness the mules to the wain, that thou mayest take the linen to the place of washing, far away by the river's side. I will go with thee, and help thee in the work."

So dreamed Nausicaä, and so spake the vision. But the voice which seemed the voice of her friend came from no mortal lips; it was Athene herself who had visited the maiden's bower, in her care for Odysseus, that he might get safe conduct to the city of the Phæacians. And when she had done her errand the goddess went back to Olympus, where is the steadfast, everlasting seat of the blessed gods, not shaken of any wind, nor wet with rain, nor chilled by snow, but steeped for ever in cloudless, sunny air. There the gods abide for ever and take their delight.

Nausicaä rose betimes, with her mind full of the dream, and went down to the hall, where she found her mother sitting by the hearth with her women, spinning the bright sea-purple thread. Inquiring for her father she learnt that he had but that moment gone forth to attend the council of elders, and hastening after him she found him before the doors of the house.

"Father," she said, "may I have the waggon to take the household raiment to the place of washing? Thou thyself hast ever need of clean garments when thou goest to the council, and my brothers will reproach me if they lack clean raiment when they go to the dance."

Thus spake the maiden, being ashamed to make mention of her own marriage. But Alcinous knew, and smiled to himself, as he ordered his thralls to prepare the waggon. So when they had harnessed the mules, Nausicaä and her handmaids brought the soiled garments, and bestowed them behind the seat. And her mother brought a basket with food for the midday meal and oil for her daughter and the other maidens when they took their bath. Then they took their seats, Nausicaä grasped the reins, and they went off at a sharp trot towards the riverside.

After a pleasant drive, they came to the place where stood a row of cisterns on the river's bank. There they unharnessed the mules, and left them to crop the sweet clover in the water-meadows. Then they unloaded the waggon, threw the garments into washing-troughs, and trod them with their feet until they were thoroughly cleansed, and having wrung them out, they spread them on the white pebbly beach to dry. While the garments were bleaching in the wholesome sun and air, they took their bath, and afterwards sat down to the midday meal. When that was ended, they threw off their veils, and stood up to play at ball.

It was a pretty and graceful sight; they were all comely maidens, glowing with youth and health. Their sport was accompanied by dance and song, and as they chased the flying ball, keeping time with hand and foot and voice, they seemed like a choir of mountain nymphs, led by Artemis, when she goes forth to the chase, in the wild valleys of Arcady or Lacedæmon. Tallest and fairest of them all was Nausicaä, who led the sport, moving like a queen among her vassals.

Presently they grew tired of their sport, and Nausicaä flung the ball for the last time to one of her handmaids. The girl missed the ball, and it fell into the middle of the river, whereupon the whole company set up a sharp cry. The sound came to the ears of Odysseus, and woke him from his long slumber. He sat up in his bed of leaves and communed with himself: "Behold I hear the shrill cry of women, or perhaps of the nymphs who haunt this wild place. Now may I learn of what sort are the natives of this land, whether they be fierce and inhospitable, or gentle and kind to strangers." Plucking a leafy bough, and holding it before him to cover himself, he stepped forth from the thicket, and came in sight of that gentle company. Grim and dreadful he looked, like a hungry lion, buffeted by rain and wind, who goes forth in a tempest to seek his prey; for he was haggard with long fasting, and sore disfigured by his battle with the sea; his eyes glared with famine, and his hair and beard hung ragged and unkempt about his face. At this fearful apparition the maidens fled shrieking along the river bank, all but Nausicaä, who stood her ground, and gazed fearlessly, though in wonder, while Odysseus came slowly forward. When he was still some way off he stopped, fearing to offend her delicacy if he came nearer. Then with a gesture of entreaty he began to speak, and Nausicaä knew at once that it was no common man who stood before her.

"Have pity on me, O queen!" he began, in soft and insinuating tones. "Art thou a goddess, or a mortal woman? If thou art a goddess, thou seemest to me most like to Artemis, daughter of great Zeus, both in face, and in stature, and in form. But if thou art mortal, then thrice blessed are thy father and mother, and thrice blessed thy brethren, and their spirits are refreshed because of thee, when thou goest, a very rose of beauty, to the dance. Happy the man who wins thee for his bride! Never yet have I seen the like of thee among all the children of men. Only once have I beheld aught to compare unto thee, a young palm-tree which I saw growing tall and straight by the altar of Apollo at Delos. I saw it, and was amazed, for it was wondrous fair; and even so is my soul filled with wonder and dread when I look upon thy face, so that I am afraid to draw near unto thee, though sore is my need. Yesterday I was flung naked on thy coast, after a voyage of twenty days. Many things have I suffered, and more, I ween, remains for me in store; for I am a man of many woes. Have compassion on me, dread lady! I am thy suppliant, and to thee first I address my prayer. Show me the way to the city, and give me a cloth to wrap round me, that I may go among the people without shame. And may the gods give thee all, whatsoever thy heart desireth, a husband and a home, and happy wedded love, shedding warmth in thine house, and a strong defence against all ills from without, but above all a sacred treasure in thy husband's heart, and in thine."

"Whatever be thy misfortunes," answered Nausicaä, "I am sure they are not the fruit of thine own folly or wickedness. And since thou art come as a suppliant to this land of ours, thou shalt want nothing, whether it be raiment, or aught else that befits thy state. I will show thee our city, and tell thee the name of the people. Know that thou hast come to the country of the Phæacians, whose ruler and king is Alcinous, and I am his daughter."

Then she called to her handmaids, who were looking on, half frightened, half curious, from behind rocks and trees, a long way off, ready to resume their flight at the slightest alarm: "Come hither, and fear not the man; neither he nor any other shall ever come to this land with thoughts of harm; for we are very dear to the immortal gods. Far away we dwell amidst the rolling seas, remote from the haunts of men. But this is some hapless wanderer, driven by chance to our shores, and we must cherish him, for from Zeus come all strangers and beggars, and a little gift is a great thing to them. Take the stranger to a sheltered place, where he may wash and dress him, and give him wherewithal to clothe himself, and after that, meat and drink."

When they heard the words of their mistress the girls came stealing timidly back, one by one. And they gave Odysseus clean raiment, and when he had washed and clothed himself, he came back to the place where Nausicaä was waiting. Wonderful was the change which had been made in his appearance by the refreshing bath and fitting apparel. Instead of the squalid, battered wretch who had begged for countenance and shelter, Nausicaä saw before her a stalwart, stately man, broad-shouldered, and deep of chest, with dark clustering hair and beard, like the curling hyacinth, and an air of majesty and command.

"Hear me, friends," whispered Nausicaä, as she saw him coming, "methinks some god hath wrought a miracle on this man, who but now was so hideous to behold. Would that we might prevail with him to make his abode among us! She would be a proud maiden who should wed with such as him. Now give the stranger food and drink." And they did so, and Odysseus ate and drank with keen appetite, having tasted nothing for many days. While he was eating, the maidens folded the garments and placed them in the waggon, and when he had finished, Nausicaä mounted the waggon, and bidding him and the handmaids follow on foot started the mules and drove slowly towards the city. When they reached the cultivated lands outside the walls she drew up, and addressed Odysseus thus: "Stranger, I may not go with thee further, for I fear the envious tongues of the citizens, who will point the finger at us and say: 'See what a tall and handsome stranger Nausicaä hath brought with her!--some seafaring man whom she hath brought with her to be her husband, since she despises the men of her own nation.' And this will be a reproach unto me. Therefore wait thou awhile, and do as I bid thee. Not far from here is a temple and grove of Athene, a fair coppice of poplar-trees, and a spring of clear water. Go thou thither, and wait until we have time to reach my father's house, then rise and go into the city and inquire for the dwelling of Alcinous. A little child could show thee the way, for there is none like it in all the city."

So saying, Nausicaä drove on, leaving Odysseus where he was. He soon found the temple, and going in knelt down and prayed to the goddess to continue her favour. When he thought that Nausicaä had had time to reach home, he rose and went into the city. The road lay along a narrow causeway, which connected the city with the mainland, and on either side was a sheltered haven, with ships drawn up on the beach. Passing through the gates he came next to the place of assembly, in front of a temple of Poseidon, with a circle of massive stones bedded deeply in the earth. Wherever he looked he saw signs of a busy seafaring people--masts, and oars, and great coils of rope--and his ears were filled with the sound of saw and hammer from the shipwrights' yards.

II

As he stood thus gazing about him, he saw a young maiden coming towards him, carrying a pitcher. He inquired of her the way to the house of Alcinous, and she bade him follow her, as she was going that way. "My father's house," she said, "is close to the house which thou seekest. But thou art a stranger, I perceive, and not of this land; walk therefore warily, and regard no man, for the Phæacians love not the face of the stranger, nor are they given to hospitality. Their home is the deep, and their ships are as swift as a bird--swift as a thought--for they are the favourites of Poseidon."

So saying, the maiden led the way swiftly, and Odysseus followed, keeping close behind. He remarked with wonder that though the streets were full of people, so that they had to walk carefully, and thread their way through the crowd, none seemed to notice him or his companion, or gave any sign of being conscious of their presence. The truth was that the supposed maiden was none other than his patron goddess Athene, who so ordered it that he was invisible to all eyes but hers.

As they went, his companion entertained him with an account of the family history of the Phæacian king, Alcinous, whose father, Nausithous, was the son of Poseidon. Alcinous married Arete, who was related to him by blood, and was honoured exceedingly by her husband and by all the Phæacians. "She is the idol of her household," continued the maiden, "and all eyes follow her with love and reverence when she goes through the town. So high is her character that even men consult her in their differences, and defer to her judgment. If thou canst enlist her on thy side, thou wilt soon obtain the safe conduct which thou desirest, and reach thy home in safety and honour."

They had now reached a large enclosed piece of land, surrounded by a tall fence, above which appeared the boughs of goodly trees, laden with their burden of fruit. "Here is the garden of Alcinous," whispered the maiden, "and yonder is the gate. Enter boldly in, and seek out the queen, who is now sitting at meat with her husband's guests. Make thy petition to her, for if her heart incline unto thee all will be well."

With that word she vanished from his sight, and left him standing at the gates of Alcinous. Wondering greatly he entered the garden, and gazed about him. So fair a sight had never met his eyes. Fruit-trees without number stood ranged in ordered rows, pear-trees, and pomegranates, and rosy apples, the luscious fig, and olives in their bloom. Their fruit never failed, summer or winter, all the year round. There blows the warm west wind without ceasing, nursing the tender blossom, and mellowing the swelling fruit. He saw pears and figs hanging on the trees in every stage of growth. Another part of the enclosure was set apart for the cultivation of the vine; and here also the same wonder was to be seen, springtime and summer dancing hand-in-hand, and yellow autumn treading close in their footsteps. Side by side hung the ripe, purple cluster, the crude grape just turning from green to red, and tiny green bunches lately formed from the blossom. There the labour of the vintagers never ceased, and the winepress overflowed without end.

Between the rows of fruit-trees were garden-beds, in which grew all manner of flowers and useful herbs; and the whole was watered by a perennial stream, divided into channels which brought the water to every part of the garden.

Turning with a sigh from that paradise of colour and perfume, Odysseus passed on to the house, and stood for a while, scanning that stately structure. His eyes were almost blinded by the light which flashed from the outer walls, which were built of solid brass, with a coping of blue steel. The doors were of gold, with silver lintel and doorposts, and brazen threshold. Then he entered the hall, still unseen of all eyes; and here new wonders awaited him. Within the doorway on either side sat dogs wrought in silver and gold, living creatures, that know neither age nor death, which Hephæstus, the divine artificer, made, in the wisdom of his heart, to guard the house of the prince Alcinous day and night. At intervals stood figures of youths fashioned in gold, with torches in their hands, which at night-time shed a blaze of light throughout the hall. And all round the walls were set rows of seats, covered with richly woven cloths, the work of women's hands. There sat the noble chieftains of Phæacia, feasting on the bounty of their king.

Far within, visible through a wide-opened door, was seen another chamber, where a troop of domestics were busy at their tasks. Some were grinding the yellow grain in hand-mills, others were walking to and fro at the loom, and others sat plying distaff and spindle, nodding their heads like poplars waving in the wind. Very choice was the fabric woven in that chamber, for the women of Phæacia were famed beyond all others for their skill in weaving, even as the men surpassed all the world in seamanship.

Such were the glories of the house of Alcinous, and when Odysseus had gazed his fill he began to think of the purpose for which he had come. The feasters were just pouring a libation to Hermes, to be followed by a parting cup, before they went home. At that very moment their eyes were opened, and they saw Odysseus kneeling at the feet of Arete, and heard him utter these words:

"Great queen, daughter of a race divine, behold me, a toil-worn wanderer, who hath come hither to implore thy grace. Intercede for me, I pray thee, with thy husband, that he may send me speedily to my native land: and may it be well with thee, and with all this fair company, and with the children who come after thee."