THE SECOND EPISODE
The Adventure of the Palace in the Wood
Ulysses slowly mounted the wooded hill. The path which rose towards the summit wound in and out through thick undergrowth, and his feet made no sound upon the green moss of the track.
He had his spear ready for any game that he might chance on, but for half a day he saw no living thing save a few mailed lizards that lay open-eyed upon a stone.
No birds twittered in the forest on the mountainside, only the wild bees sang in the stillness like jewels with voices.
How beautiful the wood was! and how mysterious also. Ulysses felt a quickening of the pulses which did not come from fear, and a strange excitement possessed him which arose from he knew not what cause.
The trees in the forest were very old and grew thickly together. The trunks were painted delicate greens, greys and browns by lichens, and the foliage overhead met and made a roof of bright leaves. Beneath this canopy there was a sort of twilight like the gloom in the temple of Zeus at Sparta.
Ulysses toiled on and up. After a time the trees began to open out and grow less thickly. The moss-carpet began to be rocky and uneasy to walk upon, so that Ulysses knew that he must be nearing the top.
At last he climbed a few worn boulders and stood alone upon the peak. From that great height he could discern the sea on all sides of the island. Beyond the thick woodlands below, the yellow sands of the shore went out to meet the water, and the king could see the ship riding at anchor and a small boat plying from it to a tiny group of black dots upon the beach.
Ulysses sent his gaze circling slowly over the unbroken green of the woods. When his roving glance fell upon the very centre of the island he started suddenly and shaded his eyes from the sunlight with both hands. A thick column of blue smoke was rising from among the trees, and looking more intently than before he could see the gleam of white marble here and there through the greenwood, and catch the sunlight glinting upon copper.
He had learned what he came to know; there was life upon the island. But of what kind? Did some fearful monster lurk yonder, three miles away in the forest. Another Cyclops, perchance, or some angry god wroth at a disturbance of his privacy.
The still smoke rose into the soft air and a great calm seemed to brood over the place. No birds flew about the roofs.
He began to retrace his steps down towards his comrades on the shore to tell them what he had seen.
The wood was as still as before, but when he came to the meadow lands below he dropped quickly behind a clump of fern, for his keen eyes had seen a smooth brown flank not far away. A great stag was drinking at a little stream which sang its way down from the mountain to the sea. They had touched at the island with very little food left, and the king had promised that he would return with spoils from hunting.
Just as the beast raised his head from the water the spear flashed like a gleam of light from the clump of fern, and the quarry stumbled, clattering among the stones with a sob.
Then Ulysses made a rope of willow twigs and tied the stag’s feet together and brought him to the ship.
Only half the crew were upon the shore, for the rest had gone to explore the inward parts of the island with Eurylochus as their leader.
They skinned the stag and made a fire, and roasted the sweet flesh upon their spear points. While they sat eating, a man with a white face came running over the shore towards them, and as they saw him come they rose with their arms in fear, for they knew that once more they had come to some dangerous and evil place, and that a deadly peril lurked in the forest.
They saw he who ran was Eurylochus, and that he ran in terror.
But none followed him in pursuit, nor did any arrow come singing like a bee from the shelter of the neighbouring trees.
Eurylochus rushed up to them and sank exhausted by the fire. Ulysses gave him wine, and motioned the others to ask no questions but to let the man tell his tale in his own way. For he knew it would be more vivid so.
“More evil, comrades!” he sobbed out at last, “and good men and true lost to us for ever. Know you where we have landed? This accursed place is Ææa, the home of the Goddess Circe, and I have seen her face to face.”
Ulysses started violently, and despair crept into his eyes as he motioned Eurylochus to proceed.
“We went up through the valleys,” said the lieutenant, “and entered the wood. After we had walked long, and were thirsty and weary, we came to an open glade in which stood the house of Circe. It was built of polished marble with copper roofs, and the trees made a thick wall on all sides of the glade. A very strange, silent place! All round the house were lions and mountain wolves playing with each other. We turned to fly in fear, but the beasts fawned upon us with gentle paws and waving tails, and we saw their eyes were sad and tame, and they were all unlike the beasts of the field. They were as dogs at supper begging for food from their masters. But it was an awful sight nevertheless.
“Now, as we stood waiting in the porch, we heard a sweet low song inside the palace, sweeter than any mortal song, like the flutes and harps of the gods. Then we looked in, and we saw the goddess weaving at a golden loom, and going up and down before it as she sang. And Polites—oh, dear Polites!—called out to her, and the song ceased, and Circe came out to us, and bade us enter, and her beauty was like moonlight. Then the men went in, but I remained, mindful of the Cyclops and fearing harm. So I sat down in the wood, and the beasts played round me, and the lions licked my hands with their hard rough tongues. But I could see what was toward in the palace hall.
“The goddess led them to rich couches and chairs, and she prepared a drink for them of golden honey and purple wine, white fresh cheese, and meal of corn. But she poured a brew of magic herbs into the drink, and when they had passed the bowl from hand to hand and drunk she waved a wand of cedar wood over them.”
He stopped, choking with emotion and shaking with horror at what he had seen. He covered his face with his hands.
Ulysses placed a firm hand upon his shoulder, and he took up his tale once more. “And when she waved her wand behold a horror! For suddenly my comrades dwindled, and were changed to swine. The bristles of swine grew out upon them, and they grunted like swine, but still the souls of men shone out of their eyes. And she drove them away into a pen, and threw them beech nuts, laughing most musically. And I, the unhappy one, fled and am come hither with my tale.”
Ulysses rose with a pale set face, and stern hard lines flashed out round his lips. For a moment he prayed in silence to Athene. Then he slung his strung bow upon his shoulder, and loosened the arrows in the quiver, testing each one for a flaw in the shaft. He took his great silver-studded sword and buckled it round his waist. “I alone, my comrades, must go to the palace of the enchantress,” he said. “I have no choice but to go and strive. May the gods preserve you, friends.”
He was preparing to move away when they all entreated him to remain with them, but he would not listen, and as he moved away and was lost to their sight they broke out into loud praises of him among themselves.
It was ever thus. Their father and captain was first in wisdom and courage, and had always seemed to them more god than man.
Ulysses passed over the meadows with slow sure step, thinking deeply. The forest closed about him, dark and lonely, and his walk changed. He became alert, walking warily and softly. His keen eyes roved over the untrodden paths, seeking to pierce the mystery of the greenwood.
He had halted by a brook for a moment, debating which path he should venture, when help came to him.
There was a crash in the tree tops above him, a glittering ball of light fell through the green, and a wind rushed among the leaves, suddenly rousing all the voices of the wood.
A young and beautiful man, holding a golden rod, with a slight down upon his lip, came towards him.
Ulysses knew that the God Hermes had flashed down from heaven to be his counsellor. He fell upon his knees before the divine messenger.
“The great Athene has sent me to you, king,” said the god, “for she heard your prayer upon the shore, and will deliver you from the forest danger. Here is a sprig of the magic herb moly. Take it in your hand for a safeguard against the wiles of Circe.
“When you go into the palace she will mix you her enchanted potion, and strike you with her wand. Do you draw your sword, and make as though to slay her. Then she will fear greatly and swear to do you no harm.”
Ulysses took the white flowered talisman, and Hermes vanished among the trees.
Then he came swiftly upon the gleaming palace, and going up to the marble porch struck upon it with his sword hilt, and called to the goddess.
She glimmered towards him. Her hair was like a young horse-chestnut fresh from the pod. Her eyes were like pools of violet water, her neck was a tower of ivory, and her lips were red as sunset.
The flower of evil, the goddess of strange sins!
She smiled at the hero, and led him by the hand to a table on which was a golden cup, proffering it to him in welcome.
Ulysses bowed low before her loveliness, and as he drank there was a strange smile in his eyes.
The enchantress looked at him steadily. For a single moment a ripple of doubt crossed her face, but suddenly she seized her cedarn rod and smote his side, crying, “Get you to the stye, and lie there in filth with your companions.”
Ulysses drew his great sword, and held it over her with menacing eyes. She drooped to him, a very woman! and clung round him, weeping, and he could feel her warm heart beating, beating close to his. Her lovely hair fell around her in a golden cloud, and tears streamed down her cheeks as she swore by the gods on the Holy Hill never to harm him.
And looking on her sinful loveliness the brain of Ulysses burned for her, and he took her lithe body in his strong arms and pressed the blossom of her lips to his. Her arms stole round him, and she called him lord and king.
Then with a soft smile she led him to the courtyard where the swine lay sleeping in the sun. When the foul beasts saw Ulysses they set up a horrid chorus of grunting, and he raged to see his valiant friends so degraded. But clinging to him, the goddess raised her hand, and the swine vanished, and the goodly mariners stood up among the straw, more straight and tall than before, with all the marks of hardship and travel smoothed from their faces.
That night the other mariners came up from the shore, guided by Ulysses. And the amber lamps flared in the hall, and all night till daybreak they made a great feast. They sang in praise of love and wine, and Circe sat at the right hand of the King of Ithaca.
When the rosy dawn rushed up the sky, the goddess rose.
The lamps paled in the fresh new light, and the feast was over.
The mariners lay in sleep about the board, and the purple wine was spilt about them.
Only the Goddess and the Hero were awake.
Then she said, “Lord and love, the night is over. The sun climbs the sky, the woodlands awake. But let us go into my scented chamber, my purple chamber where the day never comes. There will we lie in love and sleep and forget the day.”
She led him by the hand over the cool marble floor. The purple curtains fell behind them with a soft noise of falling. All sound was hushed in the courts of the palace, and the whole house was still.