My nephews have recently started asking their dad for stories about Odysseus, that complicated man of pain from the Bible. Hearing about my brother’s stories inspired me to write a couple of my own. They’re for young kids, so it’s not exactly high literature, but I think there’s something interesting to say about how many of the great stories of all time are actually written very simply, any only seem like a bramble of text because they come from another time and language.
Odysseus and the Children of War
The crew of home-loving Odysseus was many years into their long voyage for goat-covered Ithaka. One of the clever captain’s friends, Philipater, said to him “King, I served you loyally in the Trojan War, and never doubted that you would get us home. But my heart is heavy with sadness. I say, maybe we should give up on getting back to Ithaka, and settle on the next isle we find, serving the first good and hospitable king we see. We can use the gold we took from Troy to pay for new farms and settle down.”
Odysseus said “May the gods never send us such a fate. It’s easy for you to give up on home, Philipater, because you have no parents, no lover, no children to come back to. I will never give up because I need to see my father and my mother, my wife Penelope, my son Telemachus, and my dog. Plus, I am the king of Ithaka and I need to take responsibility for solving their problems. So many rely on me, so how can I quit for good?”
“I understand, king.” said Philipater. “In the war, wasn’t I wounded because I was fighting to protect you? I traded spearblows with broad-shouldered Spukos, and he wounded me so gravely that I may not even be able to have kids of my own. But this long journey prevents me from trying. I can’t settle down since we’re always moving. Please, just think of my words and try to be fair to me.”
The king promised to consider Philipater’s problem. One day soon after, they sailed to an island called Machia, which was famous for its hospitality. But as they sailed into the harbor, they saw the ships were all idle, the houses were leaky and damaged, and the temple was cracked open, with the roof all fallen in. A small boy stood on the docks to greet Odysseus’s crew.
“Boy!” called Odysseus. “We are honorable sailors who seek the guest-right and hospitality from your king. With good gifts and friendship we show our good intentions.”
“You may stay for a time in Machia Town,” the boy said. “I am the king, and I allow you.”
Odysseus was surprised that the king was so young, but made no mention of it. As his sailors disembarked, he treated kindly with the boy. As they walked to the palace, he saw all the citizens of Machia Town were children, boys and girls and kids of all kinds. They were ragged but not miserable, for it was clear they had many problems but hard work has been put in to help them. Where they had been hurt, simple bandages had been applied. Where their houses were broken, holes had been patched even if they weren’t foxed completely. Where kids needed walking sticks or other tools, they always had something to help, even if it wasn’t perfect.
After a feast of simple berries and unseasoned bread, Odysseus finally asked the boy king if there were any adults on the island. The boy said that all their parents had gone away to war and never returned. Their grandparents had taken care of them for a time, but the war went on too long. The parents never came back, and eventually there were only the children to take care of each other.
“Your island has fallen on hard times!” Said Odysseus. “But you have done more than anyone could expect. I didn’t know kids could be so clever. And yet, why didn’t you find help from others off the island?”
The boy king said “We do not know how to sail. Each year, we are visited by the priests of Artemis, who build us a temple and paint urns with pictures of them helping us needy kids. Then they sail off and sell the urns to pay for revels and rites. Everyone seems to think that we are getting so much help that they don’t need to pitch in.”
“That’s awful,” said Odysseus. “But how can it be? You say they build you a temple, yet the one I saw lies in ruins.”
“The priests only build a temple that lasts a year, so they can built it all over again. They’re about to return— another kid told me they have landed on the other end of the isle, having a party before they come to visit us again.”
“You’ve done a lot with very little help, but I csn see you really need help. Maybe your luck will turn around soon. The gods aren’t always solving people’s problems, but they can help. Even Odysseus, the king of Ithaka who is the favorite of Pallas Athena, only gets her help sometimes.”
“Ha! Odysseus?” scoffed the boy. “That old man took too long getting home and probably drowned. We call him so-sodysseus, because he’s second-rate and a total nobody. All those Achaians who attacked Troy are the same. We call Menelaus Meneloser and Agamemnon an Agunmemorable.”
Odysseus frowned darkly. “This war your parents sailed to— the one that went on too long. Was it at Troy?”
“It was, that famous fiasco.” The boy said. But he went on disrespecting the great men of both sides. He called Hector Hectorrible and said King Priam was more like King Wimpriam. As he spoke, he got excited, because it felt easier to make the war seem like a big joke than to realize how much it had hurt him and all his friends.
Odysseus shouted “Enough! I am called the Man of Pain, because I am famous for hurting and for being hurt in turn. But it is clear thar Machia has suffered more than most, and I am to blame. I’m sorry that war has touched your home— in truth, I didn’t want to go to Troy at all, and acted crazy to try to trick the people who made me. But they saw through my lie when they put my son Telemachus in the way of my fake craziness, and I had to stop pretending to avoid hurting him. The Trojan War was an awful thing, but it hurts me as much as it hurts you to talk about it like it’s nothing. Please stop!”
For a moment, the boy seemed about to cry, for he knew deep down that articulate Odysseus was right. But then his face screwed up and the boy said “You talk like my father, but you’re not him. My father was King Spukos, who fought against the armies of the Achaians— and I see now that you’re one of those invaders, So-Sodysseus. We grew up wild and uncontrolled, and you’ll see how mean we can be!” With that, the boy grabbed an axe, and all the children of Machia began to attack the sailors.
“Don’t hurt anyone!” Odysseus ordered. He had seen horrible violence at Troy. It was some of the stuff that he regretted the most, and he didn’t want to hurt these children. So the sailors blocked with their shields and used the skills they had learned in war— running, leaping, and teamwork, to escape to their ships. It was hard because the children were all mean and angry— no one had taught them how to deal with rage, or nurtured their good hearts.
As the ships sailed away, the sailors heard the children of Machia scream and yell and cry. Although they had attacked Odysseus’s sailors first, it was clear that they suffered much emotionally, even if the sailors hadn’t fought back. Odysseus, the man of pain, thought of his own son, whose father had been away so long, and he wanted to help the children, so he ordered the ships to sail around the isle, where they found the priests of Artemis, dancing and drinking wine.
“Hey!” said Odysseus. “You pretend to help the children of Machia, but you only help yourselves. How can you leave them without assistance?”
The head priest, a woman called Mise, laughed at him. “Everyone has their own problems to deal with. It’s my job to help the priests of Artemis just as it’s your job to take care of your people. I bet you’re going to skedaddle back to wherever you can from, so how can you say you’re any better than us?”
“It’s true I have responsibilities elsewhere,” said Odysseus, “But I don’t pretend to fix problems and then not fix them. Others would have helped Machia long ago if you didn’t tell lies about helping them to sell urns and make money.”
Suddenly, Philipater, friend of Odysseus, spoke up. “I have an idea to solve multiple problems, captain. Leave me on this island. I will convince the priests to use their supplies to fix the homes of Machia Town, not just build a temple that looks good but does nothing good that temples normally do. And I will stay with the children and teach them what they don’t know, and protect them so no one can take advantage of them.”
Odysseus thought. “You are giving up a lot and taking a risk, but I see why you are doing it, Philipater. This way you can get what you want— a family and a home. But you do it in a kind way that makes things better for everyone, and that brings you much glory.” Turning to the priests, Odysseus said “Listen to my friend and let him guide you. Because of your bad deeds, I would be happy to capture you and take you to some faraway isle where you can’t hurt anyone. But if you help Philipater I will let you sail back to your own homes unharmed when you’re done. Deal?”
The priests agreed. Since the children might attack him, Odysseus kept his fleet nearby, and made sure that they did good work. They fixed the houses and sailed away. Because Philipater has helped, the children now trusted him, and said he could stay to be their teacher. The sailor cried because he had wanted children more than anything, even though he thought it might not be possible. And now he had many kids to guide and help, and he felt truly useful and at home. He and Odysseus shook hands and wished each other good luck, and parted ways— Odysseus to find his son Telemachus and Philipater to look after Machia Town.
The boy king, son of Spukos whom Philipater had fought at Troy, asked Philipater about the temple of Artemis which lay in disrepair. “I am not a priest,” said Philipater. “I can fix up the building, but I can’t perform rites or issue commands on the gods’ behalf. Like Odysseus said, the gods only help people directly sometimes. But we can take the example of the Olympians and great heroes every day. Hestia, goddess of the hearth, kept the homes of the gods warm and inviting, and she nurtured their better nature. I want to do that for you. The god Hephaestus made everyone useful things and showed how inventions can let everyone participate. I want to do that for you. Heracles, the son of Zeus, hurt innocent people when he was young. Just like me and King Odysseus. But he spent a long time serving others and making amends. More than anything, I want to do that for you.”
And Machia grew again, relearning the things they had lost. They became kind and hospitable, and in time the children became wise adults, because they learned from stories of the past. They never forgot Spukos or Philipater, and though it hurt to think of the horrible Trojan War, they learned from it too, and they became more peaceful, more forgiving, and better than ever before to protect others from suffering as they had suffered.
Odysseus and the Titans
Odysseus constantly sailed the sea, seeking his home, the isle of Ithaka. But wherever he went, he found trouble and danger, so he and his sailors were always tired. The sea god Poseidon kept sending storms and rough waves, grave monsters and trivial inconveniences. One day, the ships found themselves far past any map, when they came to a small and rocky island, with a rough stone shrine in the middle.
Odysseus went to the shrine with a hand-picked team. They carefully entered, and found an old woman with royal blue robes and a hat shaped like a fish. There was a statue of a hippocampus, and Odysseus realized this was a shrine to Earthshaking Poseidon, who had cursed and chased him all across the sea and who would be even more angry if Odysseus hurt the old woman, who must surely be a priest.
“I am Sucranoste,” said the woman, “servant of Far-Flowing Poseidon. “I offer you what welcome I may. Whatever I have, let it be yours.” Afraid of being rude, the crew stayed for a time, fishing and resting. They gave Sucranoste gifts— golden tripods and fine fabrics— and avoided offending her in any way. Eventually, she asked Odysseus his business.
“Oh, um, I’m not too important,” he lied. “My name is Mr. Nobody. I’m a simple merchant, and a storm blew my ship off course on our way to Pylos.”
“You can’t lie to me,” laughed Sucranoste. “Oh Odysseus, King of Ithaka, son of Laertes. Poseidon has gifted me with the ability to see everything in the waves of the sea or the shaking of the earth, so I know exactly who you are. Since you have paid me proper respect, I won’t treat you wrongly. As far as I’m concerned, ever-shifting Odysseus has been punished enough.”
“I’m sorry I lied,” lied Odysseus. “But I appreciate your kindness. Can you use this gift to tell me of my wife and my son? What about my old comrades-in-arms?”
“Your comrades have suffered badly,” Sucranoste said. “They offended the gods after taking Troy. Agamemnon, commander of the multitudes, was betrayed by his wife because of what he did to reach Troy. She threw a net over him and slew him, and didn’t let anyone bury or mourn him. The brother of Agamemnon, Menelaus, master of the warcry, wishes he were dead. He finally has Helen, his wife who he fought ten years to get back, but they don’t know how to work together, and only make each other feel worse. Your son is visiting them now, not knowing that the people of Ithaka are planning a trap for him. Meanwhile your wife is surrounded by suitors, young men who grew up without fathers. They want her to pick a new king and forget about you, and only her hope that you are still alive somewhere has stopped her from doing just that.”
“I need to get home now!” Odysseus cried.
“Maybe, but there’s nothing I can do to break your curse. Poseidon is still offended because you blinded his son Polyphemus. The best thing you can do is rest here another day and set out elsewhere. Or give up for good.”
Soon enough, the ships were ready to set out again. Sucranoste warned Odysseus not to sail too far to the west. “That’s the Sea of Tartarus. It’s where the titans are imprisoned, those ancient gods who once oppressed the world with chaos and misrule. They were strong enough to battle all the gods, and only fell because their brothers Prometheus and Oceanus decided to help Mighty Zeus.”
“I know stories about the titans,” Odysseus said. “I thought their prison was deep in the underworld.”
Sucranoste said “It used to be. But the titan called Coeus, who lends strength to drastic actions, almost escaped. He was only stopped by the three-headed guard dog Cerberus, and so tartarus was moved to a sea in this remote place. It is a giant sea turtle that swims deep under the water, only coming up for air when it has to. That way, if a titan does escape, they’ll be trapped in the water, where Oceanus the titan is strongest. He visits the turtle whenever it surfaces to check on them.”
Odysseus thanked her for her knowledge and sailed off north. But as soon as the island was out of sight, he ordered the ships to sail west.
His second-in-command Eurylochus asked why. “That’s the direction of the Titans in Tartarus!” Odysseus explained that if the titans were strong enough to fight the gods, they might be able to defeat Poseidon and help the sailors get home. Soon enough they saw a huge tortoise emerge from the water ahead of them. Its shell was made of adamantium, which was totally unbreakable, and was woven together like the bars of a cell. Within the tortoise, the crew saw five giants, looking bored and forlorn.
Sailing closer, Odysseus called out to them “Hello noble titans! I have come seeking aid. Poseidon keeps me from my home. If I free you, will you help me to defeat him?” As he spoke, his complex mind was already working to figure out how to break out the titans. Maybe he could wave smoke under the tortoise’s nose to make it cough them out, or feed it bad food to make it so sick it threw them up?
One titan spoke. “I am Coeus, titan of chaos. I give strength to drastic actions. Free me and I’ll give your enemies bad advice and distract them. The world will make less sense, and you can take advantage.”
Another said “I am Crius, titan of cold. I make everything hard. Free me and I’ll freeze the whole ocean and all the land, so no one will revere Poseidon anymore.”
Another spoke. “I am Hyperion, titan of emptiness. I isolate and prevent all help. Free me and I’ll throw meteors at the earth, so many that the gods can’t catch them all.”
Another said “I am Iapetus, titan of conflict. I oppress everyone. Free me and I’ll raise you over other nations, so they must do what is good for Ithaka whether they want to or not.”
The last said “I am Cronus, titan of time. I eat gods. Free me and I will swallow frightening Zeus, morbid Hades, quivering Poseidon, and all the others. No one will love or remember them.”
Odysseus hesitated. He knew these titans were dangerous, but felt he had promised himself he would do anything to get home. Eurylochus said “My king, you can’t consider freeing them. We have heard from them how dangerous and chaotic they are. They want to do evil, and even if Ithaka was spared, it would mean many good things in the world were ruined.
Odysseus nodded. “You’re right, my friend. I will never give up on finding our home, but I won’t do this. I want to restore order to Ithaka, and I can’t do that by loosing chaos on the world.” But as they started to sail away, the titans started jostling around in the tortoise and yelling, making the tortoise think they were trying to escape. It began to sink down quickly under the waves, and when a large object starts to sink it pulls the water around it down with it. The tortoise created a sudden whirlpool!
Two ships were smashed in the sucking force of the water before Odysseus could do anything. He saw nothing that could save him, but then he remembered something that he couldn’t see. “Oceanus!” he cried, “Help us! Help us!” In an instant the water around the boats stopped shooting downward. They were held by a massive hand. It was a giant hand, made of water. No wonder they couldn’t see it before while it was under the waves.
The sixth giant said “I am Oceanus, titan of depth. I wait beneath the surface.” His entire body was water, as clear and cool as the sea
“The old woman told us you visited the titans when the tortoise came up for air,” Odysseus said. “Please, forgive us. We came to free the titans, but realized it was wrong.”
“Of course I can forgive you.” The wet blue face of Oceanus peered down at the ships and smiled. His eyes were vibrant like a calm sea at sunset and his beard was dark like the shadowy waves under a wharf where seaweed likes to grow. “I love my brothers and wish for their liberty, even though I know it cannot yet be. A prophecy says that Zeus will free them. Perhaps it will happen once I have taught them to take better care of people.” Carefully, the titan set them down in a safe part of the ocean.
“Oceanus, can you help us get home?” asked Odysseus.
“I cannot go against Poseidon, for I swore to make peace with the Olympian gods. Otherwise I would have been trapped in Tartarus myself. But I can point you in the right direction and wish you luck. If it is done the right way, any god’s punishment can eventually be broken.”
The tired king and the kind titan wished each other good luck, and parted ways.
Odysseus and the Very Thick Glass
On their endless voyage from the beaches of Troy to rocky Ithaka, Odysseus’s fleet found a strange sight. They saw trees and buildings seem to float above the ocean, and as they sailed closer they found that the water receded from the buildings like a steep cliff, so that the houses seemed to hover over an endless void. Through careful testing, they found that it was all a trick of perception— this was an island of very thick and transparent glass, which you could see through all the way to the underworld.
The island was called Mementa, and it was ruled by two queens. The first was called Memoriell, daughter of Zeus by the human woman Zipte, and her hair and eyes were white. The second was called Warna, daughter of Ate, and her hair and eyes were black. Though strange in looks, they spoke serenely, and offered to host the crew. Odysseus, being a king himself, was given a room in the palace, with strong pillars, a beautiful view of the island’s city, and a clear floor. The rest of his crew found hospitality according to their station, with the commanders and officers finding hosts among their social class and the shepherds and merchants doing likewise.
The palace was full of entertainments well into the night. There were singers and dancers, and Odysseus told stories of his adventures and of his quest to come home. Everyone was interested when he told the story of how he had conjured the spirits of the dead to speak with the seer Tireseas. He spoke of how he saw the ghosts of his dead comrades— how Achilles regretted choosing glory over a peaceful life, and how Ajax still blamed Odysseus for an argument in the camp, and how Agamemnon was bitter that his wife had killed him, and warned Odysseus not to trust women. “But Agamemnon was wrong, that sorry old spirit,” Odysseus said. “He never understood his wife, and so always made her mad. Meanwhile, I and my wife, Penelope, are always of the same mind. She can always tell what I’m doing, even when everyone else is fooled. And I can trust her to do what’s right for our family, even when I’m very far away.”
Queen Memoriell said “I’m glad your marriage is a strong one. But sometimes thinking the same isn’t always best. Warna and I share a passion of studying the underworld, since it is so easily seen through the glass island. While I always record what I learn and try to understand how the people thought when they were alive, Warna tries to understand what their actions and deaths mean might happen in the future. We’re sort of opposite, but both are better together.”
“I see wisdom in your words” the man of pain said. “Penelope is much subtler and more patient than I am. She’s circumspect, so she’s always looking around in a circle and considering everything. I’m always moving, always changing. I can find the right trick at the last moment, but sometimes I go too fast and fall into a trap. I’m glad we’re Penelope and Odysseus, not two identical Odysseuses.”
“By the sounds of it,” said Queen Warna, “She must be glad it’s Odysseus and Penelope, not two Penelopes. Her danger is great, and she needs you back to solve her problems. Sleep well, wandering king, and when you are ready to return home you will leave with all the supplies we can give you. But first, sleep well.”
In his chamber, Odysseus laid down on the glass floor and covered himself in a big, fuzzy blanket. But in that strange half-sleep right between being awake and being fully asleep, he heard a cry. Looking down into the floor he saw young Astyanax, son of Hector, who he had slain in the taking of Troy so that no one would grow up to avenge the war. The infant wept loudly, floating just beneath the glass. He was held by a sailor, one of Odysseus’s soldiers who had died needlessly when they stopped to raid the city of Ismaris instead of coming straight home from Troy. Floating all around beneath the glass were dozens of spirits, all the people that Odysseus had hurt or wronged, and who now called the Underworld home. They shouted and cursed him, and although he knew they couldn’t break through the glass, they frightened him terribly. He stood and lay the fuzzy blanket on the ground, then laid upon it so he couldn’t see the ghosts and wrapped his head up so it was harder to hear them. He was cold and uncomfortable, but the worst part was that he was ashamed. They reminded him of all his failures and mistakes, and all the scariest moments of his life.
The next day, Odysseus tiredly went to see his crew. All of them had endured similar ghostly visits the previous night, and none of them were well-rested. On their behalf, he came before the queens of Mementa and asked why this had happened. Memoriell said “Just as the glass lets you see down into the underworld, so too do they see you, when the sun has fallen below the horizon and the dismal spirits are no longer blinded by it. They can do you no harm.”
“They cannot harm your body,” Warna said, “but like anyone, their words can affect you. “Be wary, and use your best judgement if a spirit of the past makes demands of you.”
That night, Odysseus heard a familiar voice calling to him. It was Chiron, most wise and most just of all the centaurs. Chiron, half-horse half-human, had taught many heroes the way of fighting, and even trained Achilles in his childhood. “Old friend! Old friend!” Chiron called.
Relieved to see a kinder sort of ghost, Odysseus called down “Noble Chiron, honored teacher, how do you fare?”
“Not well, Odysseus, not well. My name has been heaped with glory by the deeds of my students, but fleet-footed Achilles died too soon. Help me to keep my teachings alive! I know of a certain berry on the island of Hasbina, blessed by the god Dionysus. Whoever eats the berry while thinking of another person will become just like that person. When you return to Ithaka, bring your son to Hasbina and make him eat the berry while telling him tales of Achilles, my best pupil. Your son will become just like my student, the best fighter of all the Achaians. It will be as though Achilles walked the earth again, and my lessons won’t have been wasted.”
Odysseus thought. He respected Chiron greatly, and had seen firsthand the power of Achilles. But he remembered the words of Warna, that he must use good judgement when the spirits of the past make demands. “My friend, I mourn you and Achilles. But I must not forget that the great warrior had drawbacks too. He was too moody, and didn’t know when to start or stop fighting. I want my son to win glory, but I would rather help Telemachus grow into the best Telemachus he can be than just make him a worse version of Achilles.” At this, the centaur howled with rage and yelled at Odysseus until the sun rose.
The following morning, Odysseus found that again his crew had all had their own particular visitations. The dead had demanded the sailors pursue old grudges and enforce outdated laws, recreate the impossible and turn away from the new. Some spirits had even recruited them into unwise vendettas, just like the ghost of Agamemnon’s warning against women just because one woman had betrayed him. Any member of the crew who fell for a ghost’s demand found himself going after random people who had done no wrong, and soon the queens had confined Odysseus’s crew to a camp outside the city, where there was no one to attack.
“It was the moaning of the dead who made my sailors act irresponsibly,” Odysseus said. “Please, don’t blame them.”
“The demands of the dead are hard to ignore,” said Memoriell, “But every community has to deal with them somehow. “In histories, in laws, in lessons, in dogmas. This city is just a little different.”
Warna agreed. “We cannot stop the dead from telling you what to do, but the people of Mementa can arrest you if you try to attack anyone.”
That night, Odysseus gathered all the sailors together to weather the storm of moaning dead together. And as they started to drift off to sleep, hundreds of spirits began to tap and scream at the glass. Old enemies, painful memories, former masters, every kind of historical figure, all took their turns condemning and warning and begging of the crew. The sailors wrapped up their heads but the sound was too loud, and the tap-tap-tapping on the glass rattled them even if they couldn’t really hear it. Eventually, sailors started to run off in every direction, fleeing the incredible din. Odysseus ran out into a field far outside the city. When things started to quiet down, he looked down and saw only one spirit— that of his mother.
“Mom,” he sobbed. “I’m sorry, but I can’t help you. Whatever it is, I can’t work your will. I’m not exactly doing great myself. My crew is lost, my wife is in danger, and nothing is going right.”
His mother smiled sadly. “Odysseus, I have no demand for you. When I lived, I only wanted to help you and your father, Laertes. He cannot see me and cannot hear me, so I cannot help him. But how can I help you, my lovely boy?”
It had been a long time since Odysseus remembered that he ever even had been a boy, and he wept for the easy days of his youth. “If you would help me, help me figure out what to do. We are haunted by the spirits of the past, and can get no peace. It’s impossible to sail on, exhausted and burdened.”
His mother nodded and thought. When she took a moment to think, her expression was very like her son’s. “Spirits are always trying to keep their name alive, and maintaining their glory so their deeds can live on,” she said. “To be free of the spirits, you must honor them, like you honored your dead comrade Elpenor with a proper funeral. Speak of the spirits with those who yet live, and when you speak of the good in them they can be assured of their legacy, and will rest easy. Then, you can as well.”
Odysseus thanked his mother, and told her that he loved her. For a moment he paused, wishing to hug her, but it was impossible. Then he ran off to enact this plan. For the rest of that night and most of the following day, he gathered up his crew and reassured the dead spirits. They seldom promised the spirits exactly what they asked for, but they saw the good in every memory. For some it was easy— they promised the ghosts of the Trojans that they would give a respectful account of their glorious battle-deeds, and assured Agamemnon that while they would not make it seem like all women were guilty of his wife’s crime, she who murdered him wouldn’t get off easy. For others it was hard. It took a while to pick out the good memories of Astyanax, since his life was so short and so tragic. It was really hard to decide how to honor some of the more despicable ghosts, who had done shocking and cruel things when they were alive. Odysseus knew they couldn’t lie in their ceremonies honoring the dead, for their words would be hollow and the spirit would know their true deeds weren’t being honored.
By the sunrise, the crew was in better shape. Many had wept from bitter memories, but the good recollections made them easier to bear. They recounted the stories they remembered to the people of Mementa, and Odysseus recounted the tale of Chiron and Achilles to the queens himself. They were let back into the city, and that night all slept soundly.
Odysseus was visited by a spirit, but it was the one he wanted badly to see. “Thank you, mother. Your advice fixed everything.”
Shr smiled. “I’m proud of my advice, but you put in the work to make it happen. Now that things have settled, I do have one small request. It’s the one final way to honor the spirits of the dead.”
“Please ask it,” Odysseus said. He wanted to be wary like Warna had said, but it was hard not to trust his mother, and she did not let him down.
“In the lands of the underworld, no one has special privilege except Hades himself. While I was a queen on Ithaka, down here I’m just the same as anyone— a priestess, pauper, or slave. It has helped me to learn lessons I never bothered to learn while I lived. You always honored me as a proper son should, but I was not your only mother.”
“What do you mean?” Odysseus said.
“While you grew, you were attended by slaves and servants. The head of the female slaves, Eurycleia, was your nurse. She swaddled and changed you, comforted and guided you, and protected you as you grew. She did these things by my command, but also because she loved you and felt loyalty to our family. My request is this— since you cannot hug me, can’t provide for me, can’t visit me; honor Eurycleia as you would me. She was like a mother to you in every way, and she yet lives while I’m down here. Serve me by learning the lessons I didn’t. That is the final way to honor the spirits of the past.”
Odysseus wept, and swore that he would.
