NAUSICAA

He was unlike any other of his time, unlike any that were before or any that would follow. He was a hero, a subject that many have sung about, have written about.

Odysseus. How many have fallen in love with this man? Too many to count. So many more than what could have been sung about by my kind.

Yes, I loved this man. From the moment I saw him I was caught in his web. But let me take you back to the beginning, when I first met this man called Odysseus.

The morning was bright, so bright, and I felt trapped. The palace walls were suffocating.

Without my parents’ permission I left. Not a lone, of course, I was not quite that foolish. I had gathered some of my maids and we left with Zephyr pushing at our back with his hands of air.

We lived not far from the ocean and it was my favorite place, this bank of sand where almost none went. A place where the rocks kept ships away from these fair shores. I chatted with my maids about the suitors that I had turned down. “Why not the last one?” He was so dull. “And the one before?” His wit did not even come close to mine. “And the one before that?” He had no life.

We laughed as we ran barefoot, just to feel the sand. It was so refreshing, so rejuvenating. We started to toss the leather ball back and forth, in this simple game of old. But this peace was not to last long; soon, much to soon, it was broken as I heard a scream from one of my women as she went to fetch the stray ball. The others started to gather around to see what had frightened the poor woman so, but when they saw they reacted the same as the first.

Foolish women! How could they not see? How could they be scared of something as beautiful as he?

I remember the first time I had seen him, bloodied and naked. As I approached, he mistook me for the great goddess, calling me by the name of Artemis and thanking me for saving him. So flattering that was! To be compared with a goddess … with Artemis …

I bade my women get me raiment and soon I was cleaning the blood off of him, bandaging his wounds. As I did this I learned that he had been thrown from his ship and it was only through Ino’s veil that he was still alive. He told me stories, such wondrously fantastical stories of battles, of monsters, of love. They mesmerized me and the soul of the minstrel within me. I could see the stories already starting to form within that wonderful moment, molding themselves to notes.

I hated myself for it, for feeling as I did. For feeling like one of the girls that I had always scoffed at for having their head in the clouds.

I, the uncatchable, had been caught. And I did not want anyone to save me.

It was destined by the gods. It had to have been, because it had been so perfect.

There was just one problem.

He would not tell me his name. How could you sing a ballet about a nameless hero? How could you love someone without a name? I poked and prodded but he refused to tell me.

Not knowing his name did not stop the passion that I felt.

I took him home and announced that this stranger, this wondrous, beautiful stranger, was to be the guest of honor with a feast prepared just for him. I did not know then that that morning an oracle had laid warning against strangers, shipwrecks, and wild stories.

My Odysseus contained all of these.

But how, oh how, could he be a danger? He was perfect, wonderful.

The customs of the land were in my favour, for no matter how despised, a host could not turn away a guest. But that did not stop my parents. They tried to have him killed, tried to have my love destroyed by an “accidental” throw of the discus. They did not realize then that no mere courtier could kill this great man.

The meal was set and throughout it everyone tried to find out who this stranger was, but he kept putting them off. “I am just a stranger to this land, soon to be gone from you and your memories.”

It did not stop me from wanting to know. And I knew just how to find out.

I strode over to where the minstrel sat and I took the harp from his offering hands and I began to play. It was magic that I felt, it had to have been. Words flew to my mouth and I sang with all my heart. I sang about Achilles and the fall of Troy, of Zeus and Hera, of Persephone and Hades. But most of all, I sang of Odysseus.

I had my suspicions, but I was not sure. With each song I watched him, this man that had so captured me.

With all my passion I spun these words, wrapping them around the notes. And I watched. I was in the middle of the tale of the Trojan horse and the men hiding deep within the wooden belly when this god of men burst out.

“It is I that the mistress sings about. I am Odysseus.”

The hall was silent, enveloping the hundred people that were gathered. Then all at once, as if the spell that had been cast was broken, everyone started to speak frantically, fighting to be the loudest.

How I had wanted to speak to him! But he was so wrapped up in the praise that I knew that there would be no way for me to. And so I slipped quietly away, unnoticed.

I went to the only place where I knew that I would be alone: the ocean. That is where I fled.

That night I cried as I sat alone. Why I am not sure. Perhaps it was because I loved a man who would not remember me on the morrow, or perhaps it was that I knew I could never have him, that he had a life back at home.

“Eros, release me from this prison you have set me in.” I prayed to the son of Aphrodite. It was such a cruel thing to do. I had to blame this emotion on someone, but me? It could not have been my own doing that had caused this. Eurynome was the only one there to keep me company, to comfort me with her soft, silvery glow pouring from the sky.

So absorbed I was. I did not even realize it, unaware, until it was too late. Perhaps though the steps were just quiet in their approach and my soft sobbing covered up what little sound they might have made.

A hand touched my bare shoulder, warm and tentative, large and strong. I jumped up from where I sat and spun around, shocked that any should find me.

How foolish I felt! It was he, Odysseus. Here? How had he gotten here? How had he known? How had he gotten away from everyone? I did not care because he was here now, with me.

I’m sorry, I started to apologize for giving away his identity that he had so closely kept to himself.

Odysseus pressed a finger against my lips, murmuring a soft “Shhh” to still my ramblings. His hand slipped down, his fingers pressing beneath my chin, tilting my face upwards towards his. My heart raced as I watched and I waited, as his lips came closer to mine.

He left me later that night. The ship had been prepared and my parents were eager to send him on his way, scared that I was falling in love with him. How little they knew! If they knew that I had already fallen, they might have pressed for him to leave sooner, to not allow me out of their sight.

I sat on the rocks as I watched the sails raise, impregnated with the wind, pushing the ornately carved wood out of the harbor and into the open sea. I sat on one of the protruding rocks, to watch as the only man I would ever love leave me for forever.

I stayed there long after the night had hidden the pure white canvas from my eyes, imagining Odysseus as he was when he left: standing proudly at the front of the boat, with one last glance back towards the shore. And I knew that his eyes searched for me.

© Lisa Marie October 2004