Page 63 of Odette's Vow

It was twilight by the time we made it to the shore. Ahead of us was a cave, its entrance yawning open before us, further reinforcing my belief that this was some monster. It was too good to be true – an islandanda cave in which to shelter from the weather?

I was two steps behind every one of Odysseus’, even though he was pulling my hand, so I saw him stop and raise his other arm, even as my body lurched forward to catch up to the tug and then swayed as I halted beside him.

His focus was fixed on the cave’s entrance, his jaw clenched, and I could practically hear him doing the risk calculations in his head as his eyes darted back and forth and his fingers twitched against mine.

“We go in,” he commanded, his voice steady but with an edge that made me nervous. His authority was undeniable to the men, but, for the first time, I wasn’t convinced. Perhaps it was because ever since we’d left Troy, trouble had followed us in a way that Odysseus couldn’t seem to shake. Or perhaps it was because I had been close to Odysseus when he had been confident in his actions, and this was something … other. Something I couldn’t put my finger on.

Perhaps it was just because I knew, in his position, I would make a different choice. That Icouldmake a different choice, and he could not stop me. He could kill me, but he could not stop me.

And let’s face it, whatever was in that cave could kill us anyway.

The air grew heavier as we walked towards the entrance, and as we stepped into the cave it felt like the darkness swallowed us whole. The air inside grew colder, almost suffocating. The smell of raw, earthy dampness was mixed with the faint, sickly sweet scent of decay. I heard a crunch and could have sworn I stepped on a bone. Then another crunch followed, and another. The ground was littered with bones. I could only hope they were animal.

But hope, as Odysseus had said once, was a foolish man’s method. He wouldn’t rely on that.

Would he?

My trepidation immediately subsided upon seeing the cave filled with provisions – there were large wheels of cheese stacked as high as the cavern walls, and clay jars brimming with milk. Sheep bleated from the back recess of the cave, and for some reason I thought that because livestock were here, it was a safe space. Someone who protected the livestock, who respected the laws of nature, would be a decent man.

If only I could ignore the bones.

Suddenly, the ground beneath us trembled and the entrance darkened as some sort of creature lumbered in, his frame so massive it filled the cave. He bent to pick up a log of wood and struck it against the cave wall like it was kindling, throwing it with eerie accuracy into a pit that within minutes became a giant bonfire.

I think we then collectively noticed the single narrow eye, for it seemed as if everyone drew a breath at the same time. He was a grotesque sight, his single eye glaring down at us, completely naked and built like a man – but five times the size.

“Who … are … you?” he boomed, his voice reverberating off the stone walls, though his voice was not hostile. Instead he seemed curious, which only made the situation more unnerving.

“We are travellers,” Odysseus said smoothly, his eyes never leaving the Cyclops, “blown off course by the whims of the gods.”

Even I could not deny it was impressive how he kept his voice steady.

“I am Nobody,” he added.

Clever, so clever. Too clever.

“Who are you?” Odysseus asked the Cyclops.

Without warning, he grabbed two of the men, smashing them against the cave walls before devouring them with a sickening crunch. My stomach churned, and I fought to keep my fear at bay.

He did not like us not knowing who he was.

But, he was blocking the entrance, which was also our only exit. I glanced at the provisions around us, wondering how we could use them to our advantage. Then Odysseus pulled out a skin of wine from somewhere.

“Something to wash them down with?”

He held out some of our wine to the monster. I had to stifle a gasp – to offer a gesture of xenia?1 was a sacred duty, watched over by none other than Zeus himself. Admittedly, the beast that stood in the door hadn’t exactly greeted us warmly, but to offer food and drink, between one party or the other, took this to the next level. If this ended up being our place of rest, or if he and Odysseus exchanged stories, there is no way we wouldn’t be bound by the rules of xenia.

The Cyclops swiped the skin of wine from Odysseus’ hand and began gulping it down greedily until he was shaking the dregs of it down his throat. A minute later, a belch echoed around the cave. He eyed all of us, like he was deciding who to eat next, but when his arm swiped forward and the men jumpedback, the beast stumbled. His eyelids drooped. Then, with a crash, he collapsed into a drunken stupor, his snores exhaling alcohol.

“You didn’t water down the wine,” I breathed, turning to Odysseus, who pinned me with a knowing look.

“You think it would have been better to mellow him out?”

I rolled my eyes. “That’s not what I meant.”

I had meant to compliment his ingenuity in a time of great pressure, but – now that I thought about it – perhaps it had been more opportunity and sheer, dumb luck that Odysseus had undiluted wine on him.

When all he did was smile at me across the fire, I crossed my arms. “Well? What do we do now?” I nodded to the sleeping giant in front of the cave’s entrance. “He will wake eventually, and then we will be damned.”

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