The next morning, the Ithacan soldiers left their remaining crewmates to tend to the ship and do some fishing. The armed men set off into the jungle following Elpenor’s path. Odysseus expected the man to get lost trying to retrace his steps from the previous day, but by midday they came within earshot of a waterfall.
“We were foraging near the pool ahead when she came to us,” Elpenor said, “She offered sanctuary, food, shelter, and love for any men who came to her with peaceful intentions. The boys accepted her offer, but I ran.”
“It must have been terrifying,” Calais said sarcastically.
“I’m still shaken,” Elpenor said, “To my core. There’s something about that witch, I tell you. We should not trust her.”
They followed the sound of the waterfall and found the pool at the foot of it, just as Elpenor had described. “Okay,” Odysseus said, “Which way did she take them?”
Elpenor led them around the pool, and Meleagar studied the banks of it with his sharp eyes until he found the tracks of a woman wandering off into the jungle with the two young men. The party followed the tracks beneath the dense jungle canopy. It blocked any breeze from sweeping away the humid, stale, jungle air. They stepped over snakes, dodged spider webs, and swatted blood thirsty insects the entire way. Odysseus had hoped they’d run into one or both of the waylaid hunting parties, in the course of their search, but as the afternoon crawled on, he regretted not assembling additional search parties to sweep the island interior for them.
Meleagar came to a sudden stop. “Shit!” he gestured up ahead at a particularly gnarly tree that hung over the trail. Corpses were suspended from the branches, their skin flensed from their bodies and their heads altogether absent.
“It’s not the boys, is it?” Deucalion asked.
Meleagar counted off, “I see three bodies…”
Odysseus stood as close as he could to the lowest one, “It’s one of the hunting parties. This was Tiphys.”
“How can you tell?” Zetes asked.
“Ty lost most of his fourth and fifth fingers on his sword hand when he blocked a Trojan spear. This body is missing the same digits, severed at the same knuckles.”
“And its head,” Calais said.
“Well, Cal, that’s clearly a new development,” Odysseus said irreverently. He would be deeply saddened by the men’s death later – for now he needed to keep his cool, and his soldiers understood and accepted that that sometimes entailed a rather cavalier attitude towards life’s horrors.
“These bodies are a mess,” Zetes said, “They’re carved up, butchered like pigs.”
“I’ve never seen anyone butcher a pig by tearing out its spine,” Deucalion said.
Odysseus circled around the body and examined the back – Deucalion was right. Two long, deep incisions had been made from waist to shoulders with blades stronger and sharper than anything the Greeks carried into battle. Leather armor and rib bones had been sliced clean through, freeing the assailant to pull out the skull and spine, as if they were deveining a shrimp.
“Is it a warning?” Elpenor asked.
“Would it dissuade us if it were?” Odysseus asked. “We have three men dead, and five men still unaccounted for. That spurs me onward, but if anyone else has a dissenting opinion, now’s the time to state it.”
The men were justifiably unhappy with the circumstance, but not even Calais was willing to call off the search – after so many years at war and at sea, every man with Odysseus knew that he’d only survived by the grace of his brothers. They’d been waylaid by all manner of threats, kidnapped, imprisoned, tortured by a rogues’ gallery of enemies, but Odysseus and their shipmates had come to their rescue again and again.
So they pressed on, climbing farther into the jungle. As the day wore on into the afternoon, they heard the sounds of human voices ahead of them in the jungle. They pressed on cautiously – attempting to approach and observe the locals covertly in their own environment was as unlikely as a shark stalking a man on dry land, but there was no reason to rush into the middle of what might be hostile territory.
What they found were ruins, stone buildings overtaken by the jungle. Plants overgrew the structures, vines clinging to the stone and small trees forcing their way through the seams. Jungle animals scurried or flitted about, but alongside them dwelled a village’s worth of people living in a more primitive state than any Odysseus had ever seen. None wore clothing beyond some aesthetic affectations – feathers, bones, or the odd piece of metal jewelry. Beneath the mud, grime, and paints they slathered on their bodies, Odysseus could tell that the population was ethnically diverse. Consistent with that their speech was a mix of Achaean, Troan, and a few other languages Odysseus recognized. However, all of it was meaningless gibberish, random words piled together like the crude vocalizations of animals. There also seemed to be no degree of social order; a man initiated sexual intercourse with a woman in the middle of the street as the Greeks walked by, and no one reacted with any indication of concern or offense.
“Well…” Calais said, “They seem happy.”
“It’s witchcraft is what it is,” Elpenor whispered, “These people have been bewitched, reduced to animals.”
“Let’s not be too quick to judge,” Meleagar chided the superstitious man, “Beyond the reach of civilization, perhaps this is man’s natural state.”
“What, running around naked, picking berries, and holing up in old ruins?” Zetes said, “That’s natural to you?”
Meleagar shrugged, “What would we be if our parents hadn’t taught us better?”
“I don’t think these people are indigenous,” Odysseus said, “A small population, isolated on this island, would be more inbred than the gods, but what I see are healthy bodies from across the Mediterranean. Mycenaeans, Cretans, Trojans…”
“Castaways?” Deucalion suggested.
“Going by the few pieces of jewelry I’ve seen, that seems likely. Perhaps they were stranded here as children…”
“Vessels from around the Mediterranean?” Calais was skeptical, “Run aground on one island without leaving a graveyard of ships near the shore?”
“That’s a good point,” Odysseus said, “If these people are castaways, they must have been abandoned here, rather than washed ashore.”
Dominating the middle of the ruins was a remarkable structure. It looked like one of the pyramids that were said to dot the Egyptians’ lands, albeit simultaneously more primitive and more elaborate than what the stories described. It was not smooth sided like the monolithic structures that overlooked the Nile. It was built like squares stacked upon each other – steps rising to the top from all sides. Although they were obscured by centuries of mud and growth, Odysseus could see that it was covered in ornate carvings of serpents and celestial bodies. Most differentiating from the stories that came out of Egypt, it appeared to be lived in.
“Circe’s palace,” Elpenor whispered.
“Not in great shape,” Calais commented.
“On the off chance this temple really is home to a demigoddess or a sorceress,” Odysseus said, “Remember to be very, very polite,” Odysseus said. The men nodded and they began climbing the steps. The villagers who’d paid them no mind as they walked into the settlement flocked to the base of the pyramid to watch them, and as they neared the top a beautiful woman appeared, suddenly, startling all of them.
“Witchcraft!” Elpenor hissed again.
“Theatrics,” Calais said bracing his spear.
Odysseus stopped them and motioned for them to keep their weapons lowered.
“Greetings weary travelers,” the woman said with a slightly exotic accent, “I am Circe, master of this paradise and high priestess of the goddess Artemis. You, my fine looking man, are Odysseus, King of Ithaca, I assume.”
“Yes my lady,” Odysseus said, “We are searching for some of our crewmen who’ve gone missing on this island. Once we find them, we’ll leave peacefully. We still have some Trojan wine aboard our ship we can leave behind, as gratitude for safe passage through your land.”
“Wine, really?” Circe smiled, “That’s a nice gift; the spring water of Aeaea is like ambrosia, but it’s certainly not wine.”
“You have no wine here at all?” Odysseus asked.
“We like to keep Aeaea simple, a land devoted wholly to the goddess of the wild and the hunt. We live as the beasts of the forest, free of civilizations’ toxic elements. That means sacrificing some of the indulgences that make man’s world so alluring – ordinarily a worthwhile trade, but I can’t resist the temptation to cheat a little when the opportunity presents itself. Stay with us for the night – we’ll discuss your missing men, and see about finding them in the morning.”
Odysseus agreed and Circe turned her attention to the feral people gathered at the base of the pyramid and simply cried, “Feast!” The men and women scattered, and began bringing back fruits and vegetables, gathering them in the center of the crude town. Some of the men started a fire, and before long others returned with a slaughtered hog, which they cut apart into pieces small enough to cook in a reasonable amount of time.
Circe sat casually on the temple’s steps and beckoned Odysseus to sit next to her on the next lower step. Odysseus politely complied, and accepted a gourd filled with fresh, clean water. He didn’t think it was quite the ambrosia Circe had claimed, but it was satisfying and relieving. The men gathered around the fire and shared the food offered them by the strange people – all except Elpenor, who remained suspicious.
“I sent nine crewmen into this jungle yesterday. We found three butchered in the jungle. My man Elpenor says you absconded with two of my men,” Odysseus said, “I didn’t hear of any coercion involved, but I wanted to see that they were well, and of course I still have three men unaccounted for.”
“I see,” Circe nodded, “You are concerned for the welfare of the men who serve you; a commendable quality for a King. The young men you seek are in my bedchambers in my abode, on the other side of the temple. New blood and all that,” Circe winked, “I shall have them summoned.”
Circe sent one of her feral women to retrieve the two Trojan men. Chylus seemed somehow dull, but content. Huro looked anxious, nervous. Odysseus hopped up and placed a hand on each man’s shoulder.
“It’s good to see you boys well,” Odysseus said, “I was worried for your safety.”
“Fork twaddle tense born,” Chylus said nonsensically with a mindless smile.
“Don’t eat the mushrooms,” Huro whispered as he gestured subtly toward his fellow Trojan.
“I see,” Odysseus said, “I will keep that in mind. Thank you. Are you happy here, Huro?”
Huro looked nervously at Circe, “Our lady has been generous with food, shelter, and affection. Our needs have been well provided for.”
Circe cut off any further conversation and dismissed the young men, “The boys tell me that they are Trojans, whom you took in bondage from the fall of Troy years ago.”
“You know of Troy?” Odysseus was surprised.
“Oh yes, the Trojan War has had no small impact on our island. Many of our people were refugees of the war. We have Dardanians, Lyrnessans, and Trojans. Your boys will be quite at home here. Chylus in particular has assimilated into this new life very quickly.”
“He does seem… different.”
“Well, as I said, paradise requires sacrifice. Civilization is antithetical to paradise, and one cannot simply choose to stop being civilized. Anyone beyond their childhood years that wishes to stay in Aeaea must make a sacrifice to ensure its continued peace.”
“What sort of sacrifice?”
“Hm,” Circe smiled, “Those mushrooms Huro tried to subtly warn you about are special. Consuming enough of them irreversibly strips a man’s mind down to its animal instincts – takes away the sin of higher thought, and leaves only the simplest desires, which are easily satisfied on Aeaea.”
“But you have not consumed these mushrooms?”
“Well, every flock needs a shepherd, doesn’t it?” Circe said, “It gets lonely, of course, being the only fully conscious person on an isolated island, but I suppose that’s my sacrifice. Forfeiting the happiness of primal simplicity so that I can look after Artemis’s people.”
“And Huro?”
“Despite what he says to my face, I know he’s wary of making the sacrifice. I don’t understand why though. From what he’s told me, his alternative is a life in bondage in Ithaca, is it not?”
“To tell the truth,” Odysseus said, “I have considered freeing them and offering to send them back to Troy once we finally return home. Unfortunately, there is little of their home left to return to.”
“It seems strange, then, that the boy would prefer to live out his days toiling under the man who destroyed his home, rather than embrace the paradise I offer here.”
“Indeed, I do find that strange,” Odysseus lied.
“Tell me; are you tempted to stay, Odysseus?”
“I have an obligation to return my men to Ithaca,” Odysseus evaded.
“Obligation, ugh. You should at least take my offer to your men; they might well prefer to stay.”
“Perhaps,” Odysseus said, “But we have families in Ithaca…”
“More obligations?”
“No. People we love. I miss my family so deeply, some days the pain of separation feels like a mortal wound.”
“Oh, dear Odysseus,” Circe stroked his knee, “I could make you forget that pain without special mushrooms.”
“I don’t want to forget my wife, or my son.”
“How long has it been since you were home?”
“We’re not sure exactly,” Odysseus said, “Roughly seventeen or eighteen years.”
Circe laughed, “Nearly two decades? My dear Odysseus, by now you have been forgotten! You have no home to return to. Your son will be a man. Your wife will be someone else’s wife now, and probably a mother to his children. Your fields and your cattle will belong to other men as well. If you return to Ithaca, all you will find is disappointment, and all you will bring will be the reopening of wounds that likely took years for your grieving widow to mend.”
“You’re right that my son will be grown, but that is something I still very much wish to see. And Penelope would not give up what we have easily…”
“A woman has needs, Odysseus,” Circe moved her hand up his leg suggestively, “You know, a small dose of the mushrooms does no lasting harm. It heightens the senses, expands the mind. Perhaps a little taste of what I’m offering would help you think more clearly about your circumstances?”
“Perhaps,” Odysseus said noncommittally before changing the subject, “Can you tell me anything of the men I found dead in the jungle? Their heads were removed, preventing any proper burial that would carry them into the afterlife.”
“Oh, that would be the work of Orion, our divine predator.”
“Divine predator?”
“Oh, yes,” Circe nodded, “This land offers my people food, water, and shelter, but they are quite incapable of defending themselves from any interlopers who would come here under less honest or peaceful pretenses than yourself. So, Artemis sent down a great hunter to protect the island. We seldom see him, but he stalks the jungles, hunting men for sport. He prefers men who smell of war, and leaves my otherwise defenseless people in peace.”
“We found our crewmates hanging from a tree,” Odysseus said, “It would take a man of considerable strength to do that alone.”
“Orion has… magics which allow him to perform remarkable feats, but even without them, he is not a mere man. He is something else, something stronger and faster. He has claws like a bear, skin like a crocodile, and tusks like a boar.”
“Does he pose a threat to my men?” Odysseus asked.
“Orion sometimes allows events to play out to satisfy his curiosity. That is likely why he allowed your party to make it to our village. Send an unarmed man back to your ship to summon your remaining crewmen here, so that they can hear my offer, and I’m sure that he will let them pass without incident.”
“Or,” Odysseus said, “I can return to my ship with all of my men, relay your message, and send back any crewmen who want to stay back here with that wine I promised you.”
“Well, I could allow that,” Circe said, “But then, what’s to stop you from running off and telling the inhabitants of the next island you cross about what you saw here? Orion can defend us from a few men here or there, but not an invasion.”
“So you never really had any intention of letting us go at all, did you?” Odysseus soured.
“No, not really,” Circe admitted, “The risk of allowing you to leave is simply too great, but I wanted to forestall any unpleasantness that might arise. This is supposed to be a place of peace, and peace is really just procrastination between conflicts, isn’t it? I meant what I said about your missing men; I’ll help you find what’s left of them.”
“So how does this work?” Odysseus said, “We get up to leave, you give some command, and your naked, unarmed worshippers overwhelm six armored men through weight of numbers? I wouldn’t deny they have the advantage, but many would die.”
“Oh, I care about my people, and you’re right; many of them would get hurt if they attempted to subdue you. And as I said, this is a place of peace. I can’t have it turn into a bloodbath.”
“Then what do you imagine will keep us here?” Odysseus asked.
“Orion of course. He’s watching, listening right now. Somewhere, out in that dark jungle, he’s studying you, deciding whether you’re worthy prey. Deciding whether you are a lion or a mouse. If you storm away from this village with armed men, back to your ship where you have a good number more armed men… well, I’m certain you know what his decision will be.”
Odysseus left Circe to go talk to his men who were gathered about the fire, making sport of insulting the mentally addled villagers to their faces. For all of their joking though, their own train of thought was beginning to veer off course in wild directions. Odysseus snatched one of the poisonous mushroom’s from Meleagar’s hand and threw it in the fire.
“No more of those.”
“What? Why?” Zetes asked.
“Why do you think?”
“The food is cursed!” Elpenor said, “I knew it! The witch has laid a hex on it!”
“The only thing sorceress about our host is that she doesn’t eat the magic mushrooms.”
“How does that make her a sorceress?” Deucalion asked.
“Because in a society of brain damaged beast men,” Odysseus explained, “The woman who can form a coherent thought reigns supreme.” The Greek soldiers looked at their food with newfound mistrust and set it aside, their appetites lost.
“I don’t feel so great…” Calais said.
“We’ll stay here for the night,” Odysseus said, “Placate our hostess and let you lot sleep off your indulgences. At day break we grab Huro and head for the beach.”
“What about Chylus? Or Staff and the other men?” Deucalion asked.
“For that matter, what killed Ty and his men?” Meleagar asked, “And what are we going to do about it?”
“Chylus is lost of his own choice. We leave him to live out his days here. Circe claims that Ty and his men were killed by a creature which guards this place, an inhuman hunter that Circe calls Orion. Staff and his men have likely been killed by the same creature.”
“But you don’t know for certain?” Deucalion asked, “You’d leave men behind, their fate unknown and unavenged?”
“Maybe,” Odysseus said honestly, “I haven’t decided what to do. But if we do go into that jungle to hunt a monster, it’ll be with the rest of our men. Tomorrow morning we make the trek back to the beach as fast as possible. No stops, no diversions, got it?”
The men agreed and made camp in the middle of the village. Elpenor approached Odysseus as they laid out bed rolls, “I heard Circe telling you about Orion. The creature sounds incredibly dangerous – is it really safe to leave this place?”
“Assuming the creature is real and Circe’s description has not been embellished, which I find unlikely on both counts, it’s still only one creature. Whatever it is, it’s only proved itself able to take down one party of three men equipped to hunt deer. There’ll be six of us leaving this place tomorrow, and we’ll be well armed and alert. If it tries to pick a fight with us, it will regret it.”
“You will all need your rest, then,” Elpenor said, “I know I’m not a cunning fighter, though, so let me stay up through the night and insure no mischief occurs while you sleep.”
Odysseus reluctantly let Elpenor take on the job of lookout – he’d thought the man an irredeemable imbecile, but of the men Odysseus had brought, he’d been the only one not to partake of the poisoned food.
Elpenor took his job very seriously, standing silent vigil, even in the face of the local women’s attempts to distract him. That is, until Circe herself quietly approached him in the dead of night. She whispered in his ear and led him to the rooftop garden of her domicile that overlooked an old arena.
“You did very well bringing your captain to me, Elpenor,” she caressed his arm, “I think he might be quite the addition to my collection.”
“Yes my lady, I am very glad you’re pleased, but… he’s planning to leave. I could not dissuade him.”
“Oh, I know,” Circe patted his shoulder, “But it’s part of our game. If he’d submitted and taken me up on my offer he’d be chattel like all the rest. Suitable to wash my feet, prepare my food, and pleasure my body. A nice toy, but not a trophy. If I’m to add Odysseus to my collection, he must have a story for me to tell. He needs to resist me; he needs to put up a fight. Otherwise there is no conquest.”
“A fight?” Elpenor asked, “I didn’t think anyone would be harmed…”
“Oh, poor sweet, simple man,” Circe rubbed Elpenor’s arm consolingly, “That’s because you’re a fool.” Circe shoved him off the roof, sending him hurtling thirty feet into the nearest enclosure. He landed feet first, the impact of the fall crippling him. Elpenor cried out in fear and confusion as a guttural clicking noise came towards him in the dark.
“Sorry Elpenor,” Circe said, “But some strays make better fodder than friends.”
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