Circe(79)

“Everything here is yours,” I said.

“But can it be mine alone? You promise not to go in?”

I remembered how much my young privacies had meant to me. “I promise,” I said.

I have wondered since if he used those same charms on me that he had worked on the sailors. For I was like a well-fed cow in those days, placid, unquestioning. Let him go, I told myself. He is happy, he is growing. What harm can find him here?

“Mother,” he said. It was just after dawn, the pale light warming the leaves. I was kneeling in the garden, weeding. He was not usually up so early, but it was his birthday. Sixteen, he was.

“I made you honeyed pears,” I said.

He held up his hand, showing a half-eaten fruit, shining with juice. “I found them, thank you.” He paused. “I have something to show you.”

I wiped off the dirt and followed him down the forest path to the cave. Inside was a small boat, near the size Glaucos’ had been.

“Whose is this?” I demanded. “Where are they?”

He shook his head. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes bright. “No, Mother, it is mine. I had the idea before the men came but seeing them made it go much faster. They gave me some of their tools and showed me how to make the others. What do you think?”

Now that I looked I could see that its sail was stitched from my sheets, its boards roughly planed, still full of splinters. I was angry, but a wondering pride glowed in me as well. My son had built it alone, with nothing but crude tools and his will.

“It is very trim,” I said.

He grinned. “It is, isn’t it? He said I should not say anything. But I did not want to keep it from you. I thought—”

He stopped at the look on my face.

“Who said?”

“It is all right, Mother, he means me no harm. He has been helping me. He said he used to visit often. That you are old friends.”

Old friends. How had I not seen this danger? I remembered now Telegonus’ giddiness when he would come home at night. My nymphs used to come back with that same face. Athena could not cross my spell, no, she had no powers in the underworld. But he walked everywhere. When he was not rolling his dice, he led the spirits to the doors of Hades himself. God of meddling, god of change.

“Hermes is no friend of mine. Tell me everything he said to you. At once.”

His face was mottled with embarrassment. “He said he could help me, and he did. He said that it must be sudden. If a scab is to come off, he said, the best way is quickly. It will not even take me half a month, and I will be back by spring. We have tried it in the bay, and it is sound.”

His words tumbled out so fast I struggled to parse them. “What do you mean? What will not take you half a month?”

“The journey,” he said. “To Ithaca. Hermes says he can lead me around the monsters, so you do not have to fear about that. If I sail at the noon tide, I will make the next island before dark.”

I felt speechless, as if he had torn my tongue from my mouth.

He put a hand to my arm. “You do not have to worry. I will be safe. Hermes is my ancestor through my father, he tells me. He would not betray me. Mother, do you hear?” He was peering at me anxiously from beneath his hair.

My blood ran cold to see his greenness. Had I ever been so young?

“He is a god of lies,” I said. “Only fools put their faith in him.”

He flushed, but a defiance had come into his face. “I know what he is. I do not just rely on him. I have packed my bow. And he has been teaching me a little spear-work besides.” He gestured to a stick leaning in the corner, one of my old kitchen knives laced to its end. He must have seen my horror, for he added, “Not that I will have to use it. It is just a few days to Ithaca, and then I will be safe with my father.”

He was leaning forward, earnestly. He thought he had answered all my objections. He was proud of himself, bright in his new-forged plans. How easily those words tumbled from him, safe, my father. I felt myself running with swift, clear rage.

“What makes you think you will be welcome on Ithaca? All you know of your father is stories. And he already has a son. How do you think Telemachus will like his bastard brother appearing?”

He flinched a little at bastard, but answered bravely. “I don’t think he would mind. I don’t come for his kingdom, or his inheritance, and so I will explain to him. I will stay the whole winter, and there will be time for us to know each other.”

“So that is it. It is settled. You and Hermes have the plan, and now you think all that is needed is for me to wish you fair wind.”

He looked at me, uncertain.

“Tell me,” I said. “What does all-knowing Hermes say about his sister who wants you dead? About the fact that you will be killed the moment you step away from the island?”

He nearly sighed. “Mother, it was so long ago. Surely she has forgotten.”

“Forgotten?” My voice clawed the cave walls. “Are you an idiot? Athena does not forget. She will eat you in one gulp, like an owl takes a stupid mouse.”

His face paled, but he pressed on like the valiant heart he was. “I will take my chances.”

“You will not. I forbid it.”

He stared at me. I had never forbidden him anything before. “But I must go to Ithaca. I have built the ship. I’m ready.”