The Legend of Scylla

It had been four years to the day since Odysseus had returned from making his sacrifices to the gods. Teiresias, the blind prophet whom Odysseus encountered when he visited Hades’ Halls, had stated that Odysseus would die a peaceful death from old age. He had also said that the noble King, Odysseus, had to sacrifice to all the gods in a place where the people knew nothing of the sea, directly as he returned back home to Ithaca. But the prophet had conveniently not mentioned any of the time between the two events. Odysseus knew that he would not die, from whatever he did now, and so he felt like the immortal gods.

Athene came to him, in the depths of his room, as he was mending the great wedding bed he had made for Penelope. “Brave Odysseus,” she whispered through the wind. “You are glad to be home, yet something saddens your heart. You grieve for your lost companions, especially those that you could not give proper burial rites.” A shadow shimmered, and Athene appeared in form, taking the shape of a tall, beautiful woman. Odysseus looked her straight in the eye.

“Goddess,” he said, “If only I could avenge the six men that the monster Scylla gobbled. But, alas, I cannot, for none can kill her.”

“But you are not ‘none,’” Athene continued. “You know that you will not die, if you try the errand.”

“I may not, but I don’t wish to lose another crew.” Odysseus hung his head and wept bitterly in memory of his fallen comrades.

“Than do not take another ‘crew.’ Family, and loyalty rewards more than a group of men, weary from fighting a war.” Athene looked on as Odysseus continued to cry, the tears forming rivers down his broad face. She felt her message had been delivered, and set off for Olympus.

As Dawn appeared, fresh and rosy fingered, the next day, Odysseus woke from his bed beside Penelope and called to Telemachus. “Telemachus,” he said, “Come with me, get Eumaeus and Melanthius and meet me down by the black ship.” Telemachus looked confused, but followed his father’s instructions. Odysseus ordered Eurycleia to bring him provisions, which he stored, in the belly of the small ship. He went to the storeroom, from where the weapons had never been removed, and took several spears and shields.

Down by the edge of the wine-dark sea, the small company gathered and Odysseus told his three companions what he had in mind for the journey. “The monster Scylla,” he began, “Has killed for the last time.” The other three looked worried but trusted Odysseus more than words can say.

After several days at sea, the dread Charybdis appeared on the horizon, and opposite it, on the bank, was the home of the six headed monster, Scylla. The swineherd and cowherd looked at the whirlpool in absolute terror, but Telemachus, taking a cue from his father, stared steadily at the rocks. Odysseus knew this place. He had been there not only once, but again, as he was swept back. At that point he had been thankful that Scylla had not appeared and snatched him out of the water. Now, however, he wanted her to appear. When he had come this way before, Circe had warned him not to arm himself. He hadn’t followed that instruction then, and didn’t plan to now. He and Telemachus put on their armor and grabbed spears before telling the other two to do the same.

With watchful eyes, Eumaeus and Melanthius strapped on armor and four sets of eyes turned towards the rock face. At once, Scylla appeared. With all six of her heads she reached down to grab the four men. But they were ready and lobbed off each of the heads one by one. Howling in agony, Scylla withdrew the remaining two heads, bloddied and enraged, and looked at the four men with utter anger in her eyes.

As she roared, her heads began to grow again and the men watched in terror. Even Odysseus thought for a moment of fleeing. But he knew that he would not die here, and Athene wished him to kill Scylla. So, each of the company took up several spears and, following Odysseus’s orders, thrust them in the middle of the mass of barking dogs around the monster’s waist, where her heart once was.

Scylla screamed and fell forwards into the river. At once, Charybdis sucked her up, her blood mixing with the swirling water in a red foam. The men raised their bloody spears in triumph, the blood of the monster running down their supple arms.

"Let's go home," Telemachus said wearily after the initial truimph had worn off. The rest of the crew nodded in agreement.

"No," said Odysseus. He knew what each of the men was feeling - he himself had been away from home, though for a much longer time than these men. But he also knew what must be done. Nothing is certain until seen with ones own eyes. They had to make sure Scylla was truly dead.

At last, the whirlpool vomited up her catch. There was no monster to be seen. But there was a figure, female, and beautiful. Telemachus lifted her up and made sure she still lived. Despite the crushing force of Charybdis, the lady had still managed to survive. Scylla had been transformed back into her original state (a nymph), from which she had been turned into the monster by the jealous goddess Circe.

Scylla opened her eyes slightly and smiled up at Telemachus. “Thank you,” she whispered, barely audible, and fell back upon Telemachus’s arm. Her damp hair shone golden in the sunlight, falling over Telemachus's body like a waterfall.

“Who are you?” the thoughtful Telemachus asked, as he brushed the hair out of the woman’s eyes.

“I am Scylla,” she replied weakly. Scylla smiled timidly up at Telemachus and collapsed, limp upon him. The four men loaded up their ship and set back out for Ithaca, carrying the lovely maiden with them. When the rocky shores of sea-girt Ithaca were beneath the boat’s oars, the men scrambled quickly to shore. Odysseus embraced Penelope.

Telemachus and Scylla scrambled ashore, hand in hand - they had grown close during the long journey. Gazing longingly into each others' eyes, the pair had no gaze to waste upon Odysseus's beloved Ithaca.

"Mother," Telemachus began. Penelope silenced him with a finger.

"I know that look," she said, "You don't need to say anything. I'll be right back." .

When Penelope returned, she had the white dress that Helen had bestowed upon Telemachus in hand. She held it up to Scylla’s slim figure.

“Absolutely beautiful!” Penelope remarked and beamed at her son. "You will make a fine wife." Telemachus and Scylla smiled at each other, blushing with Penelope's consent. The crowd standing upon the beach began to dispurse.

The newly engaged couple began to walk towards the palace, kissing as they receded. Penelope quickly followed, wishing to return home with her beloved maids. Eumaeus and Melanthius hurried home to see their families. At last, Odysseus was left standing on the beach.

Athene appeared again to him and she looked down on him in the figure of the tall, beautiful woman. “You were supposed to kill Scylla,” she said, shaking her head sadly. “You did not.”

“I could not,” Odysseus replied. “I could not interfere with my son’s love. For the moment he laid eyes on her, I knew that he loved her. I cannot deny my son that pleasure.”

A great change came over Athene. She nodded her head slowly. “Yes,” she said. “This was the plan. Once again, my Odysseus, you have passed the test. May you live long and in peace.” She bade him farewell and disappeared.

“So this marriage is not against the gods’ will,” Odysseus thought aloud.