“I’ve run into them before.”
“Before—or aaaafter—the fight with the sea serpent?”
Above them gulls flew in circles, screaming at one another.
Odysseus sighed. “There was no sea serpent.”
Silenus nodded. “I knew thaaaat.”
Odysseus said carefully, “Then know this: those pirates would cut my throat as well as yours.”
“Aaaa,” Silenus said. He flopped down on to a rock, with his elbows on his hairy knees. “I knew you weren’t really a prince. Moment I looked aaaat you, I knew. You’re not taaaall enough. Not fine enough. Now Perseus—there was aaaa true prince. Aaand Hercules—the muscles on thaaaat boy. Aaand—”
“I am a prince,” said Odysseus. “For what it’s worth.”
“Not worth much,” the satyr said. “It’s not princes we need now. We need aaaa hero.”
“A hero!” Odysseus stood.
“Who is aaaa sailor,” said Silenus, standing and sidling over to Odysseus, but thankfully downwind.
“I grew up around boats,” said Odysseus. “I’m an islander, after all. I’ve sailed from one end of Achaea to the other.”
Silenus looked suddenly sly. “If we found aaaa boat—even aaaa small boat—could you get us to the mainlaaaand?”
Odysseus rounded on the satyr. “You have a boat? Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
“Well, it’s a very smaaaall boat. Haaaardly worth mentioning.” Suddenly the sun hid behind a dark cloud, and the old satyr’s face became full of shadows.
“How small?”
Silenus looked around, as if afraid of being overheard. “Some while back—months, years, I’ve lost count—this fishing boat waaaashed on to the beach. You’d be surprised—really you would—what I’ve found in the shaaaallows.”
“Get on with it,” growled Odysseus.
“It waaaas wrecked, of course. But I fixed it.”
“So why haven’t you sailed off?” Odysseus asked.
“Goats and waaaater. Baaaad mix. Baaaad. Baaaad. Baaaad.”
Odysseus looked back over the ledge. There was an awning set up next to the pirate boat. He assumed the two girls lay under it. But he couldn’t see Mentor anywhere.
“Where is your boat?” Odysseus asked suddenly.
“On the other side of the island,” said Silenus. He joined Odysseus in looking over the ledge. “But we could taaaake their boat.”
“You really don’t know anything about ships, goat-man,” Odysseus said. “That’s a full-size war galley. We couldn’t even get it back into the water, let alone hoist the sail. We couldn’t—”
Silenus sniffed loudly. “I smell something sweet.”
“The wind must be blowing away from you then,” Odysseus muttered, turned, and saw Mentor tied to a date tree.
He’s alive! Odysseus bit his lip. Thank you, Athena.
“Wine and women, women and wine,” sang Silenus, sniffing. “Nothing sweeter for paaaassing the time …”
Odysseus grabbed the goat-man by the horns and pulled his head around to face him. “Listen, Silenus—I can sail your little boat. But first we have to rescue a friend of mine.”
Silenus tore from Odysseus’ grasp to look over the side again. “But there are two … twenty … thirty baaaad men there.”
Odysseus yanked him back by the little goat tail. “Then we’ll have to come up with a plan.”
Making a plan was easy. Odysseus thought; it was a lot like telling a story.
Of course, in a story, heroes always win.
But acting on the plan was going to be a great deal more difficult. Large boulders, slippery rocks and prickly bushes had their own way of adding to a tale. By the time Odysseus and Silenus were hidden among the rocks at the edge of the beach, Odysseus’ arms and legs bore the scars of such a telling. His tunic was sopping wet with sweat, and the goat-man was—unbelievably—smellier than ever.
Still, they had got where they’d hoped to get: far enough away that the sailors couldn’t hear them, close enough that they could watch what was going on.
It was clear the pirates were getting ready to leave. The
“Before—or aaaafter—the fight with the sea serpent?”
Above them gulls flew in circles, screaming at one another.
Odysseus sighed. “There was no sea serpent.”
Silenus nodded. “I knew thaaaat.”
Odysseus said carefully, “Then know this: those pirates would cut my throat as well as yours.”
“Aaaa,” Silenus said. He flopped down on to a rock, with his elbows on his hairy knees. “I knew you weren’t really a prince. Moment I looked aaaat you, I knew. You’re not taaaall enough. Not fine enough. Now Perseus—there was aaaa true prince. Aaand Hercules—the muscles on thaaaat boy. Aaand—”
“I am a prince,” said Odysseus. “For what it’s worth.”
“Not worth much,” the satyr said. “It’s not princes we need now. We need aaaa hero.”
“A hero!” Odysseus stood.
“Who is aaaa sailor,” said Silenus, standing and sidling over to Odysseus, but thankfully downwind.
“I grew up around boats,” said Odysseus. “I’m an islander, after all. I’ve sailed from one end of Achaea to the other.”
Silenus looked suddenly sly. “If we found aaaa boat—even aaaa small boat—could you get us to the mainlaaaand?”
Odysseus rounded on the satyr. “You have a boat? Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
“Well, it’s a very smaaaall boat. Haaaardly worth mentioning.” Suddenly the sun hid behind a dark cloud, and the old satyr’s face became full of shadows.
“How small?”
Silenus looked around, as if afraid of being overheard. “Some while back—months, years, I’ve lost count—this fishing boat waaaashed on to the beach. You’d be surprised—really you would—what I’ve found in the shaaaallows.”
“Get on with it,” growled Odysseus.
“It waaaas wrecked, of course. But I fixed it.”
“So why haven’t you sailed off?” Odysseus asked.
“Goats and waaaater. Baaaad mix. Baaaad. Baaaad. Baaaad.”
Odysseus looked back over the ledge. There was an awning set up next to the pirate boat. He assumed the two girls lay under it. But he couldn’t see Mentor anywhere.
“Where is your boat?” Odysseus asked suddenly.
“On the other side of the island,” said Silenus. He joined Odysseus in looking over the ledge. “But we could taaaake their boat.”
“You really don’t know anything about ships, goat-man,” Odysseus said. “That’s a full-size war galley. We couldn’t even get it back into the water, let alone hoist the sail. We couldn’t—”
Silenus sniffed loudly. “I smell something sweet.”
“The wind must be blowing away from you then,” Odysseus muttered, turned, and saw Mentor tied to a date tree.
He’s alive! Odysseus bit his lip. Thank you, Athena.
“Wine and women, women and wine,” sang Silenus, sniffing. “Nothing sweeter for paaaassing the time …”
Odysseus grabbed the goat-man by the horns and pulled his head around to face him. “Listen, Silenus—I can sail your little boat. But first we have to rescue a friend of mine.”
Silenus tore from Odysseus’ grasp to look over the side again. “But there are two … twenty … thirty baaaad men there.”
Odysseus yanked him back by the little goat tail. “Then we’ll have to come up with a plan.”
Making a plan was easy. Odysseus thought; it was a lot like telling a story.
Of course, in a story, heroes always win.
But acting on the plan was going to be a great deal more difficult. Large boulders, slippery rocks and prickly bushes had their own way of adding to a tale. By the time Odysseus and Silenus were hidden among the rocks at the edge of the beach, Odysseus’ arms and legs bore the scars of such a telling. His tunic was sopping wet with sweat, and the goat-man was—unbelievably—smellier than ever.
Still, they had got where they’d hoped to get: far enough away that the sailors couldn’t hear them, close enough that they could watch what was going on.
It was clear the pirates were getting ready to leave. The
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