The Witch's Isle

The three Ithacan ships sped in front of the storm, barely keeping ahead. Our crew shot into action, getting everything shipshape fast, tying down what they could, except their oars. They tied themselves to their benches, and their oars swept the sea.

"Is this a good idea, Captain, to row into the storm?"

"I'd rather risk Poseidon's wrath than that prince. Death is less certain, and a better death in any case."

"We could parley with Telemachus, make him let you go in exchange for me."

"And trust him not to kill us once he had you safe?"

"I could cling to a barrel until you passed over the horizon. If he came near me, or pursued, I would cast myself into the sea."

"Might work. Might not. We haven't the time with the storm. But still, I wouldn't agree. The goddess commanded me to keep you safe. I won't risk her certain wrath, or her fierce sister's. Better to die at sea."

"Ah."

"You should go below, Princess."

"No. I won't die hiding. I'll face this head-on, and if we live, what a sight to have seen. No Captain, tie me to the rail."

We rowed off angle to the Ithacans toward the tempest. Two of their ships sped on straight. They would miss us by far. The other turned.

"He follows."

Of course he did. He was stupid, not cowardly.

The waves rose to the sky. The wind howled, and the rain beat. The dark sea churned, casting us this way and that -- until I didn't know up from down. The clouds, the sea -- same thing.

It wasn't long before the wood began to splinter. The oars went first. Strong oars that had survived many voyages splintered like twigs before the roaring surge. Then the planking was stripped along the left-fore. The sea came in, and the men bellowed in terror. They cut their lashings and tossed themselves into the sea to their watery graves. I heard a spar snap, then another. It wasn't much longer. The sea grabbed us and spun us around. Down we went, and the water closed over the ship.

I took my knife, the one from darling Pallas, and cut the line that bound me to the splintering hull. I slipped free under the water. I was pulled away and twisted in the darkness. The knife was wrenched from my grasp, gone forever. I had no more hope.

Cold hands grabbed me, strong hands that seized me and overcame my panic. I felt the creature kick, propelling us through the water with the strength of many men. I saw long hair swirl in the shadowy blue. I saw its eyes.

To the surface, with its pelting rain and shearing wind. I gasped a life-giving breath. The creature still held me, a nereid -- I guessed -- a daughter of the old king of the sea. She swam me to a long splinter of the ship's keel, bobbing in the waves. She placed me on it, and I grabbed firm. She kissed me. Then she dived.

I clung to that scrap of wood, carried along by the storm through the day and most of the night, until it blew itself out. The stars showed themselves, and all the world was calm.

Thirst. Drifting and thirst -- many days. And the unbearable sun.

I woke on a white beach with a lush green forest beyond. Telemachus stood over me, his body bruised, his clothes torn. He had a big leering grin.

"Oh Poseidon has answered my every prayer, dear Donjeta, for here we are stranded on this lonely isle, far in the endless sea, together. What could be better?"

"Many things could be better Telemachus. Many, many things."

I had no knife, but neither had he. However, throwing him to the sand and strangling him would give me no pleasure, just then. He seemed pitiful, his evil deeds more the tantrums of a silly child than the malice a fearsome man.

"Is there food?"

"Yes. The trees are abundant with a delicious red fruit. And the animals! They are so tame to walk right up to you. When we've fashioned a simple spear, I will slaughter one for you, and you can prepare a meal."

If he thought I'd cook for him, he was crazy, but he brought me some of the red fruit, and I ate, suckling on the juices which stung my cracked lips. I staggered into the trees to a spring and drank my fill.

I said a prayer to Pallas, giving her all my love.

"How about the trees? They seem stout. Can we cut some down? Can we make the tools? We could build a raft."

"Ha! Donjeta, ever looking to escape. But here's the funny part. There's a ship! A full ship, appointed and ready to sail."

"Oh?"

"Ah, but it's a fifty man ship, empty and no sign of a crew."

"I'll look at this ship."

"I wonder if you'll recognize it. It's the most amusing thing. I'm still laughing. Poseidon, ever my family's friend."

The ship was in a small cove a mile down the beach. It was the slave ship, the one that had brought me to Ithaca, pulled up on the sand and tied off to the trees.

"Yes! My prayers to Poseidon were answered, and this foolish captain was brought low for daring to lash my lovely Donjeta!"

He reached out to touch me. I stepped away.

I searched the ship and found a knife and spear. I tossed him a spear also. We ate more fruit, and drank again. I felt strength returning. We headed inland to explore the isle.

As we passed into the thickness of the woods, we came across a trail heading up to the steep heights in the center of the isle. We followed it, alert.

"This island isn't quite as lonely as you thought."

"I guess it isn't."

A beautiful youth with only hints of his first beard came crashing out of the trees barely five yards ahead of us. He saw us, stopped and turned, and gave a little bow.

"Fellow travelers, what brings you to the Isle of Aeaea?"

"Huh? The Isle of ah-eh-what?"

"Aeaea."

"Shipwrecked, and you Greeks make the silliest words."

He smiled.

"The undying gods named this island, lovely girl. What are your names?"

"Donjeta. This is prince Telemachus."

"Ah! Telemachus! The son of clever Odysseus?"

"I am he."

"How wonderful. Well friends, I'm called Phoibos. I hail from Thebes with seven gates."

That's what they called the Thebes in Greece. The one in Egypt had more gates.

"Ah. Well Phoibos, what brings you to this lonely isle? Do you live here?" I asked.

"No. This is the home of Circe, the fearsome witch. I'm just passing through. I shall deliver you a message, and a warning."

"Oh?"

"There is a gray eyed lady who says do not give up hope. She watches over you, as she can, and there are friends everywhere."

I smiled.

"And she warns you, do not eat the flesh of the pig, no matter how hungry you become, no matter how nicely the witch offers. Do not eat, not on this isle."

"I shall not."

He came close and whispered.

"And I'm to give you this. It is an elixir that dispels foul magic. When you're ready, when your position is strong, feed it to the pigs."

He deftly slipped the potion into my belt. Telemachus was staring at a tree and didn't seem to notice.

"Farewell friends. If you continue on this path, you'll come to the witch's house. Remember, do not eat the pigs."

With that he winged off into the trees and was gone from sight.

"I wonder if he has a boat?"

"He was sent by the gods you idiot."

Telemachus was starting to crack.

He hadn't been kidding about the animals. When we reached the witch's house, there were lions and wolves sauntering around the little glen, calm with no sense of threat. The prince walked straight out.

"See. They're perfectly tame."

He walked right up to a wolf and petted its scruff. It nuzzled him.

The house itself sat beyond the glen, two stories with walls of dressed stone. It had narrow windows and a wide open door over a small set of steps. Down them came the witch, wearing a flowing gown of finely spun thread. Her hair was dark and lustrous, in braids. She had wide dark eyes and full pouty lips. She stopped and looked at the prince fondling her wolf. A smile crossed her face, slowly, as if she relished the very arrival of the feeling -- whatever feelings the witch may have.

"Welcome guest. What brings you, a man so clearly of high and noble birth, to my home?"

The prince glanced up, noticing her. He stood frozen for several seconds.

"Shipwrecked in a storm, castaway on the waves to drift for days, and brought to your door, one so clearly a god, by Poseidon himself. I am Telemachus, prince of Ithaca. Who are you?"

"I'm Circe, and I'm overjoyed that you have come. We will drink to the god of the sea for sending you. Come. It's warm inside."

The prince went. The door closed behind him. Neither he nor the witch seemed to notice me at all.

I stole to the side of the house to peer through a window. When I got there, I noticed the pigsties and heard the grunting of the swine. They were behind the house, their enclosure ramshackle as if hastily made, wooden posts and narrow slats lashed together by twine.