Making amends

Although she was a goddess and lived as a recluse on her island, Calypso was fairly well acquainted with the customs of mortals. She even followed them, most likely just out of boredom. For instance, she delighted in celebrating the New Year, which coincided with the first Dionysia. It was unknown what rumors had carried word of this festival to Calypso, but she was utterly convinced that the festivities in honor of Dionysus had to be accompanied by drunken orgies. Odysseus, as the potential second participant in any orgy on this god-forsaken island, was not at all thrilled by this. Because on such days, the number of her naïve attempts to drag him into bed increased a hundredfold. "Well then... to love..." Calypso began again, glancing at him slyly. Her cheeks were flushed from wine, her new festive chiton had seemingly 'accidentally' slipped off her shoulder, suggestively revealing the curve of her full breast. "To nature!" Odysseus promptly added, diligently averting his eyes. The sight of a semi-undressed Calypso had long sent shivers down his spine - shivers that not even Scylla had managed to evoke. "To nature," Calypso agreed sourly. After all, she loved her island and couldn't deny its natural splendor. They sat at a table laden with jugs and delicacies conjured by the goddess's will. Through the open window wafted the warmth of a summer night; nearby, the tropical forest rustled and birds called to one another, while in the distance, the sea surf whispered gently. It was hard to believe that somewhere snow was falling, winter storms were raging, and hearths needed to be lit for warmth. But by mortal reckoning, it was precisely the eve of the New Year. The eve of yet another year of his captivity. Odysseus sighed sadly, draining another cup in large gulps. His head had been buzzing for a while now, but still not enough to endure Calypso's advances without wanting to curl into a ball and pretend to be a shrimp. He had never yet managed to drink himself into such a state. But that didn't mean he wasn't trying. "Well now, definitely to love," the goddess began again, pressing against his shoulder with an affection that carried the irresistible force of a draft horse. Odysseus shuddered, pressing himself against the wall, and thought that being a shrimp probably wasn't so bad after all. Maybe if he politely asked Poseidon... "To life," he muttered darkly, glancing sideways out the window where a sharp cliff was visible - a cliff that had long stirred conflicting feelings in him. Calypso giggled: "Oh, darling! How lovely that you value your life with me so much!" Odysseus fixed her with a gloomy stare. But Calypso possessed an incredible immunity to hints of that sort, as if she lived in her own imaginary world where she saw and heard only what she wished. Another cup of wine finally tangled his thoughts and turned the noise in his head into a thunderous surf. Odysseus suddenly felt a longing for the sea. Changeable and sometimes cruel, it was at least not so... clingy. "So, shall we drink to love after all?" In Calypso's tender cooing, the first capricious, displeased notes flickered. Odysseus sighed. It wasn't that he had a choice - but he was not lacking in stubbornness either. It was just that his imagination seemed to be running out. He scanned the room, carefully avoiding looking at Calypso herself. They had already drunk to her loom, and to the cozy cave, and to the island, and to the trees outside the window, and even to the wine itself... "Alright," he finally exhaled. "Let's drink to love... for the sea." Calypso blinked in surprise: "To the sea? But don't you hate it?" "I love the sea!" Odysseus retorted at once with drunken obstinacy. First out of sheer contrariness, and then he suddenly realized - it was true. He had always loved it. He was born on an island, after all! He grew up beside the waves, loved to swim and steer a ship... could one conflict with the lord of the oceans really erase all that? Even if the sea had taken so much from him, he still spent his days on the shore, gazing into the distance. As if hoping to glimpse his home beyond the waves, the home from which the sea had cut him off. "I love the sea," he repeated stubbornly, right into the goddess's displeased eyes. He grabbed a full jug from the table and, swaying, headed for the exit. "I'd rather greet the New Year with its lord than with you! Even if he turns me into a shrimp..." "And serve you right!" Calypso snapped after him. "You can spend the night on the beach, since you don't know how to appreciate kindness! Just think, I picked up that drowned good-for-nothing, nursed him back to health, cared for him, and he won't even drink a toast to me..." Disgruntled mutterings from Calypso followed him all the way to the beach. Odysseus knew she would be sulking for half the night now - and he was glad of it. The goddess couldn't stand it when someone else was preferred over her - be it the memory of Penelope or even the domain of another deity. "I love the sea!" he yelled on purpose from the shore, waving the jug. A wild, drunken fire of defiance and rebellion boiled in his blood. He no longer even cared if she would hear his shout. "Poseidon, can you hear?! I love the sea! You can even turn me into a shrimp for this!" The rhythmically rolling surf suddenly seemed to choke and freeze in surprise. Odysseus shook his head, confirmed he wasn't seeing things, and took a swig from the jug - such a strange natural phenomenon definitely needed to be washed down. The wine finally clouded his mind and buckled his knees. So Odysseus flopped onto the sand and was almost unsurprised when a dark figure with glowing eyes suddenly clambered - not strode forth majestically or arose with grandeur, but clambered - out of the water. Poseidon (who else could it be?) braced one hand against the sea's surface, like a man climbing out of a cellar, and with visible effort hauled out... an enormous and clearly not empty amphora. He stood, swaying slightly, looking at Odysseus with cheerful astonishment: "So here you are, coward!" It seemed he, too, had been celebrating Dionysia somewhere in his underwater palace. And he had already celebrated quite thoroughly. "Same for you!" Odysseus drunkenly waved him off, not even taking offense. Liquid courage surged in his veins; the sea seemed knee-deep and its lord - well, a god is a god, more pleasant than Calypso, at least he wouldn't pester. "I'm not even here by choice, you know. If I could, I'd have sailed away long ago!" "So why aren't you sailing?" Poseidon snorted, sweeping his arm in an overly broad gesture across the sea. "Get in the water!" Odysseus actually considered the idea for a moment. Finally, he took another drink from the jug and stood up: "You know what, let's! So if you'll drown me, you'll drown me, to Tartarus with it! I'm sick to death of this island! I want to go home..." With each word, he took another step, wading into the surf, as if he truly intended to swim all the way to Ithaca right under the eyes of his divine adversary. Poseidon watched him with interest, head tilted, while Odysseus, in contrast, held his head high with pride. Which is why he eventually tripped over something on the seabed and plunged face-first into the water, at the last moment clutching the edge of the other's chiton. Poseidon snorted but, for some reason, didn't push him away. Odysseus shook his head and looked up in surprise: "What, not going to drown me?" "You're doing a fine job yourself," the god grinned maliciously. "Besides, it's shallow here. And... boring, I suppose." "Boring? Boring?!" Odysseus flared up. "So you're chasing me not out of vengeance for your son, but for entertainment?!" "And reputation," Poseidon corrected pedantically, raising his own amphora to his lips. It smelled of very old and very strong wine. "Shouldn't have gone bandying your name about..." Odysseus shrugged, recalling that shameful moment from his biography once more: "Sorry... I apologize for the name, yes. That was stupid. I thought I was a king... That my name carried weight... And now I'm stuck here like a pig in a pen... and neither my name nor my title can save me from the advances of some girl... What kind of king am I to the damned titans..." A few tears, drunken but sincere, traced paths down his weathered cheeks and dripped, adding to the sea's saltiness. Poseidon suddenly leaned forward with interest: "So you are capable of a proper apology?" Odysseus raised his head, looking into those glowing eyes for the first time without a shudder, only with hopeless stubbornness: "What's the point? You won't forgive me..." Poseidon suddenly sat down on the sea's surface as if on solid ground. Beside him, the waves obediently held his amphora. "I can't," he sighed. "Reputation, damn it all. Chasing you was interesting, and my son is partly to blame himself... If you hadn't blurted out your name, you'd have no troubles. But now... they simply wouldn't understand if I didn't punish you." For a moment, Odysseus felt a strange sense of understanding, as one ruler to another, forced to be cruel so no one would think his power had waned. "As if you haven't punished me enough," he muttered stubbornly. "Not enough," Poseidon smirked. "You practically challenged me. And then you ran away. For that, the punishment is severe!" "So why not just drown me then and be done with it?" Odysseus shrugged. "I wouldn't even mind. You won't let me go home anyway, and there's no life for me here. She'll drive me to it; I'll jump into your embrace myself." "And you're not afraid?" Poseidon squinted in surprise. "What has she done to you that you confess your love to me and rush into my embrace? For the sea is me. Its essence, its very being - is in me." Odysseus measured the dark figure before him with an appraising look. Snorted: "No, the sea is nicer. It at least doesn't drown people on purpose and can be gentle. But you're not bad either... when you're not raging. Even more handsome than the statues in your temples." Poseidon looked away with strange embarrassment: "I can be gentle too. To those who don't make me angry..." Odysseus looked longingly at the jug he'd left on the shore: "So I have no chance, right? Just drowning?" "Why immediately drowning? That's boring," the god sighed, nudging his amphora toward him. Odysseus barely held it with both hands. "Not interesting enough, lacks spice. Something more original... Chain you to a rock with an eagle, but you lack the stamina, and it's plagiarism. Make you roll a boulder up a hill..." "I'll roll it!" Odysseus responded eagerly. He drank from the amphora and gasped at its strength. "I'll roll it to the top!" "You're supposed to not roll it to the top," Poseidon snorted. "And again, plagiarism... Maybe make you swim in circles again until all the fish around start recognizing you?" "That's already been done too!" Odysseus hastily replied. The divine wine burned his throat like fire, awakening a hitherto unknown boldness. "Could I have... a time-limited punishment? I still want to live with my family, you know." Poseidon laughed so hard the sea shuddered: "Your audacity is certainly remarkable! Well, alright," he took another swig from the amphora and smiled good-naturedly. "How about building me a temple somewhere at the edge of the world? Should take you about ten years..." "Too long," Odysseus shuddered, wrapping his arms around himself. He had been standing in the surf for half an hour, washed by gentle waves, but he only felt cold now. "A temple, yes, I can do that. But can it be... on Ithaca? What use is a temple to you in distant lands? Can't show it off properly, can't even drop by when you want." "What about the punishment?" Poseidon grumbled, and the sea stirred uneasily. "Building me a temple is an honor!" "Well... an expensive honor?" Odysseus ventured a guess. "Bankrupting, even..." "And why would I want an expensive temple on a ruined island from which all the inhabitants would flee?" the god was still displeased. It seemed pleasing him with a punishment was harder than evading Calypso's advances. Odysseus sighed, beginning to feel genuine despair. Maybe he should really agree to exile? But he simply couldn't bear so much time away from his family! And he couldn't stand another minute with Calypso... "Please!" he groaned, with the boldness born of intoxication, embracing the god's legs. Poseidon, it seemed, didn't object. "Let it be a temple! Or my eyes! Or whatever you want, even my life, just don't make me stay here with her again!" The god's glowing eyes watched him with lazy interest. Even though his head was clouded with wine, Odysseus understood the main thing - Poseidon clearly wasn't angry with him anymore. But out of pure stubbornness, he didn't want to accept as punishment something Odysseus was willing to agree to voluntarily. This way, he could certainly avoid death... but risked prolonging his dreary existence here. Unless he played his last and most precious card correctly. This idea should have been horrifying and repulsive to him. But Odysseus wouldn't be a renowned trickster if he couldn't negotiate with his own conscience. And for his freedom and peaceful return home, he was ready to give anything. The interest in the other's eyes grew brighter: "Calypso, that petty goddess... what did she do to you that frightens you more than my divine wrath?" Odysseus smiled with just the corners of his lips, like a fisherman sensing the first nibble. Then he heaved a heavy sigh, feigning inexpressible disgust and cosmic melancholy. He didn't even have to try very hard. "She wants to take the last thing I have left!" "And what is that?" The god's eyes lit up predatorily. Odysseus sighed, almost without pretense: "My fidelity to my wife." Poseidon looked at him with sincere astonishment: "Your... what? Don't tell me that since sailing from Ithaca you haven't once... with anyone... how many years has it been, ten? Fifteen?" "Yes," Odysseus said simply. The god rolled his eyes: "Mortals! That's just... preposterous! You could have died at any moment, goddesses tempted you... and all this time you remained faithful?" Odysseus sighed. He suspected the god, whose list of lovers likely filled an entire library, would hardly understand this quiet, warm and steel-strong feeling of loyalty to one, single person. The feeling he was about to sacrifice. But even Poseidon could understand the value of this intangible, yet weighty treasure. The god made Odysseus lift his head, examining him with newfound interest. Fortunately, Calypso had always taken good care of her 'pet,' dressing and grooming him well. Odysseus now looked perhaps better than when he had gone off to war. So he didn't have to fear that Poseidon, with his varied tastes, would say no. The harder part was restraining his satisfied smile as he watched the fire ignite in the other's eyes. The fish had taken the bait. But the fisherman mustn't betray his joy. So Odysseus only sighed mournfully when Poseidon proclaimed: "I have thought of your punishment!”