Читать книгу Electra - Kerry Greenwood - Страница 16

The wine from the attack on Ismarus was good, but the Cicones had contested possession of it and their wives and livestock. I would not have attacked them, but my coarse and brutal crew had to be pleased with the spoil. We had buried our dead in the bosom of Poseidon, who hates me.

I, Odysseus, Sacker of Cities, The Sly One, Odysseus of the Nimble Tongue, Wise and Much-Enduring, Odysseus of Cunning Counsel, I won the battle, broke the siege, and destroyed Troy, his city. A terrible gale struck the Ionian ships, driven along before the wind under the flapping rags of the sails.

A God's hatred is a heavy burden, but heavier to leave the land of the lotus eaters, who sup on honeyed fruit on those pleasant shores. The men wept as I compelled them back to their ships, calling them weaklings and scoundrels. I chained them to the oars as we rowed out.

Penelope, my wife, and Telemachus, my baby son, are waiting at home for me now as my ships approach Kriti. And I am Prince of Ithaca. I will return, though Poseidon blows me all over the world.