Odysseus' Detour

They were all so tired. The war had challenged their merits in ways the gods had never dreamed, from a spiritual level to the backbreaking pains of brute trials. Twelve ships Odysseus commanded during the Trojan War, and now he barely had his own galley. Ithaca was a long way off—all he could see was the myriad of blue waters in all directions.

“We haven’t the supplies to get home,” said Perimedes, stepping up to the wheel. “And the crew are scared to put the nets back into the water, what with the way those scaled beasts were trailing the ship yesterday.”

It was true. They’d gone from one calamity to another, the latest being a trio of curious sea creatures beneath the waves. A few of the men thought to hurl spears into the water but Odysseus stopped them before they could be so foolish. Eleven ships gone, he reminded them. They were all that was left to come home.

But they would never make it home. The last of their provisions went overboard in last night’s storm. The holes were patched and the rigging tied fast, but none of it mattered when bellies were rumbling and throats were dry. They had a single cask of fresh water to be divided up between twenty-eight big, thirsty men. Odysseus thought he could ration it but it would be gone soon enough. And then, a mutiny.

They’d never see Ithaca again.

But on the morning they were scooping the dregs from barrel with wooden spoons, Eurylochus spotted land far beneath the rising sun. Odysseus kept them on a constant path, waiting for the glare of the light to move above before making a decision. They didn’t know these waters and they certainly weren’t in shape to fight along the coast of contested land. But by midday as the clouds gathered overhead and the landmass came into view, it was clear it was uninhabited, at least the beach facing the galley. Odysseus ordered the sails turned and uttered a small prayer to the Anemoi that the winds get them there quickly.

The closer they came, the more they saw vegetation—large trees with plump fruit in the eaves. And if there were trees, there was probably fresh water not far inland. Odysseus thought this could be an island but he wasn’t sure. This was an unexplored part of the world and he hardly had maps to lead him.

By sunset, the ship was running aground the beach but Odysseus didn’t mind. They could fix any damage to the ship with whatever they found on the island, and could then build a ramp to launch it back into the ocean. His father had taught him such things as a boy. For now, he disembarked with his entire crew.

“Shall we roll the barrels?” said Perimedes. “Perhaps we’ll find a river, or at least a spring.”

“We’ll return if need be. For now, I’m curious of the island.” Already a few men were shimmying up the trees and knocking down the fruit where others were catching it. Big, bulbous melons with juices that stained the lips. He’d never seen such fruit, but he broke one over his knee and slurped the innards, surprised by the sweet, tangy taste. This was a delicacy that would fetch a fortune in Ithaca, if only it were a hospitable enough land for the trees to grow. Odysseus reminded himself that he’d bring a few of the seeds home with him.

If he ever returned home.

They passed through a thick swath of bent trees, leaving the beach and their battered ship behind. Ahead, the grass covered all things and the men could tramp through as if they had laid siege to this place. A few animals scampered away, bouncing high and trotting off down the hill.

“There’s game here, Odysseus,” said Eurylochus. “That means there’s fresh water nearby.”

Perimedes said, “Game, water, fruit. This place is a paradise. We could live here.”

Odysseus scrunched his nose. “But what of our families? No, we’ll resupply, fatten our stores, and then we’ll be on our way with another story to tell. Besides, this place seems too perfect, wouldn’t you say?” And to hammer his point, he drew his xiphos sword, the steel ringing between the trees.

Past the foliage lay a wide expanse of fields. Far in the blurry distance sat the foot of a great mountain, rising high into the sky where it disappeared beyond the clouds. And just ahead, probably a hundred meters off, stood a craggy rock with a dark, black hole in the side.

Eurylochus bent down and placed his palm against the grass. It was low, and it took Odysseus a moment to come to the same conclusion he had. The man said, “The grass is short. This is a grazing field.”

Odysseus said, “But where are the sheep? Or the cows? Or whatever’s been nipping at the ground?”

“Something feels . . . wrong,” Eurylochus said. The rest of the men, now with melon sitting in their bellies, caught up their leader and appraised the field.

But Odysseus pressed on, still gripping his sword. “What’s in there?”

He pointed the tip straight ahead, toward the cave. It looked much smaller from the rim of the forest. When they were standing next to it, they were surprised by its size. Nearly circular, the opening was around eighty feet high. Cold air rushed out, but they could also smell something—meat cooking. There was no mistaking it. The peppered aroma of lamb or goat or cow. It made their bellies grumble and once again, Odysseus led them on, disappearing into the cave.

It remained wide for a hundred feet, then opened into a chamber so large that the men first thought they’d stepped out into a sunless sky. There were burnt-out torch sconces on the walls, as if someone had lived here long ago. Still, they pressed on, heading deeper into the cavern by way of the only passage.

In the next room they found the source of the smell and none of them were ready to understand it. A large fire burned—so large that it could consume every man standing around. Upon a spit too high for them to reach was a trio of goats, all charred and crackling. But who could’ve put it here?

“Look,” said Odysseus. In the corner sat a hoard of treasure—coins, trinkets, suits of armor and weapons, and most importantly to the parched men, casks of grain and mead. It was the greatest sight that none of them would get to enjoy.

A loud rumble vibrated the cavern. It was so strong that the bonfire flickered. Every man in the cave panicked and ran, all heading toward the entrance. Only Odysseus wasn’t afraid, for he was the last to follow. And when he was near the opening, he ran right into the throng of men who’d stopped to see a horrifying sight.

A beautiful woman, at least sixty-five feet tall, was rolling a massive stone in front of the door, the light turning to a crescent moon and then disappearing altogether. When she turned back toward the dark cave, her eyes glinted against the wisps of light coming from the bonfire. She was dressed in a small loin cloth that barely covered her. She was barefoot, her feet longer than full-grown men.

And now, Odysseus lost his nerve and he ordered his men to retreat. They turned around and fled back toward the fire, but where could they go?

Her lumbering steps shook the cave as she gave chase . . .

“Back to the fire,” Odysseus called, but a pair of his soldiers had already turned to the giantess. With enough space between themselves and the woman, they drew their longbows and took a knee. Arrows hissed away into the darkness just as she grunted. Odysseus didn’t think they caused her any real harm—but instead only angered her further.

She stepped into the scant light provided by the bonfire, plucking one tiny arrow from her thigh and another from her forearm. A small droplet of blood fell from each wound, shiny in the light. Her face, although beautiful with its strong jaw and piercing green eyes, was turned into a scowl. Two lumbering steps later and she brought her foot up just as the men were nocking a second arrow. One of them jumped aside but the other was not so lucky. Her foot crashed down with a crunch and he disappeared beneath it.

The other man dropped his bow and tried to run off with his crewmates but she was too fast. Her big hand swooped down and grabbed him. He struggled but he may as well have been fighting solid iron. She carried him up into the darkness, his legs kicking, his voice ragged from screaming. And then Odysseus heard a wet snap and his body went limp. Then, he could hear her chewing . . .

He turned back and fled into the cave, knowing that they were trapped. The giantess took her time reaching them because there was no need to be hasty. Odysseus had led his men to certain death. Her footfalls shook the cave, flickering the bonfire. As she drew near, the crewmen formed a line with their spears and swords. This was a formidable foe that would kill them all, but perhaps they would hurt the creature enough so that future unfortunates didn’t meet the same fate. Odysseus’ eyes kept glancing to the pile of treasure—before they’d all been so enraptured by the glittering jewels and coin, but now they saw the old bones mixed in. She’d been a menace for a long time.

When she entered the main room of the cavern—her lair—the crewman was gone and her lips were stained with blood. There was a light in her eyes, a dancing flicker from the bonfire. She took the remains of the man’s clothes and tossed it over their heads and into the pile. None of the soldiers made a move because she’d stopped at the mouth of the cavern and appraised them, her big hands on her hips.

“My name is Polyphemus,” she said in a strong, commanding voice. Her accent was unlike anything they’d ever heard—both guttural and brute, but also elegant and light. There was demigod in her, of this Odysseus was sure. She continued. “You are trespassing in my land—no, inside my very cave!”

“We didn’t know,” said Odysseus, screaming because he felt the need to match the woman’s booming voice. “Please, let us leave and we’ll trouble you no further.”

She threw her head back and laughed. Odysseus though it was rattling their armor but it was only the men’s involuntary trembling. Each of them was afraid—leader included—but he wasn’t about to show it. This was a battle they could not win.

Polyphemus said, “You taste too wonderful for me to let you walk out of here. So now I give you two choices: You may stay here—I’ll feed you, take care of you until I’m ready to suck the marrow from your bones. Or I can prepare a giant feast right now. If you continue to attack me, that’s exactly what will happen to you all.”

Her words did little to soothe their fears. Perimedes took a step forward, spear raised in his shaky hand, but Odysseus put a hand to his shoulder and shook his head. He grabbed the spear and pushed it toward the cave floor.

“All of you,” Odysseus said. “Put down your weapons. This isn’t a fight we need.”

“What are you doing?” whispered Perimedes. “Didn’t you hear what she just said?”

“Yes. And this is our best way to survive her. If we attack now, she’ll go on a rampage and kill us all.”

Eurylochus crept up behind Odysseus and said, “I have a bad feeling about this.” His breath smelled of the exotic fruit.

“It’s our best path to staying alive,” said Odysseus. Then, he turned to his men and shouted, “Throw down your weapons. We do as Polyphemus says.” He dropped his xiphos sword, the blade clattering loudly in the cave. The rest of them, although grumbling beneath their breath, did the same until everyone was unarmed.

“I want the weapons in the pile,” she said, pointing to her treasure hoard. Reluctantly, they picked up their blades and carried them over to the pile and threw them atop the glittering gold and jewelry. Then, just as they were about to turn back to face her, the giantess said, “Now your armor.” She picked up the spit from the fire and pulled one of the goats off with her teeth, chewing madly until she swallowed.

This request made the men look to one another questionably, but Odysseus led them in unstrapping his leathers. What difference did it make? If they didn’t have weapons, the armor hardly mattered. Besides, she’d already eaten and flattened men who were fully armored.

Once their gear was added to the pile and the more than two dozen naked men huddled around the fire, Polyphemus finished off the goats and replaced the spit. She licked the spices from her fingers and then suddenly reached down and picked up one of the crewmen. A torrent of screams echoed in the cave as every man fled to the corners of the chamber. Odysseus waited for her to take a bite out of the screaming man but she didn’t do it this time.

Instead, she placed him inside a hanging, wooden cage that none of them had seen before. She had cages hanging all around, suspended from something high above their heads. The giantess moved around the room, gathering up the men and stuffing them inside cages. No one dared to run, feeling that this was a better alternative than getting eaten alive. Odysseus was the last one left in the chamber. She shut the final cage door and turned around so that she faced him.

With her standing so close, he could see beneath her loin cloth—and was amazed to see she wasn’t monster-like, but shared the same anatomy of women who were normal-sized. Odysseus averted his eyes, not wanting to seem rude. But then again, modesty was a construct of civilized people—and this creature was a savage.

“You’re the leader of these men?”

“I am,” he said.

“What is your name?”

“Odysseus.”

She smiled, but it wasn’t full—more of a halfway grin, as if her mind was turning over devious ideas. What could be more devious than eating a man? Odysseus didn’t know what else to say, but he didn’t have to—the giantess stepped over him, then headed to the rear of the chamber, just to the right side of the pile of treasure and gear. Her arms bulged as she pulled aside another massive rock, one they didn’t notice before because it was so massive that it blended in with the walls.

When she rolled it aside, a wonderful smell wafted out, like roses and jasmine. With the stone in place, she turned back to Odysseus and said, “Come.” Then, she turned and headed inside, ducking slightly to clear the ceiling.

He looked up at his men and shrugged, unsure of what was happening. Nonetheless, he followed behind, stepping off the rocky ground and into a plush, carpeted area. The floor was covered in animal hides, some shaggy, others smooth and coarse. They were all stitched together like a giant quilt. The room was lit because there were pockmarked holes in the ceiling, allowing for the moon’s silvery light to bleed through. In the center was a large bed, at least that’s what he assumed it was—from the ground, it was difficult to see.

Polyphemus sat on the edge of it, waiting for Odysseus to come closer. When he was standing between her massive feet, she stood, then slid her loin cloth down. After that, she removed the garment covering her breasts. Now, she was completely naked, looking as normal as a human girl and nothing like a monster.

She was muscular, her biceps and thighs corded with them. Her long, sandy blond hair hung in a clump at her shoulder, smooth enough that Odysseus didn’t think she left it to the gods to cut and style. Her fingernails were long and tapered to deadly points. The giantess could probably skewer cattle with them.

But before Odysseus could appreciate her form, she bent over and picked him up, her nipples dangling just over his head. He tried to keep himself composed but it was scary to be lifted, especially after watching her devour a man. She brought him close to her face and it made his heart flutter. Her eyes were so big—green as the field just outside the cave. When she smiled, her white teeth dominated her mouth and he had visions of his limbs grinding to a pulp between them.

The giantess sat on the bed again and moved herself up to the headboard, keeping the tiny man just in front of her. When she let go of him, he didn’t know what to do. Polyphemus looked at him as if it should’ve been obvious. She bent her legs at the knees, her womanhood on full display. Like her mouth, this could’ve devoured him, as well.

“What do you want of me?” he asked, his voice sounding small and insignificant. He looked around the room, and was surprised to see furnishings that reminded him of homes back in Ithaca. She’d taken the time to decorate, as well. Maybe this wasn’t a creature at all, maybe it was a misguided hermit who dealt with invaders the only way she knew how.

“I want you to make me moan,” she said, and before he could question it, her palm appeared at his back and raked him forward. Odysseus slammed against her womanhood just as she raised her bottom off the bed. He was rising into the air but he hardly noticed because he was so overcome by her heat and scent to care. She pushed him with so much force that he thought his bones might break.

Her hand rubbed up and down, dragging him across her lips. Each pass made her wet and he was thankful for it because the friction was causing him pain. The giantess was moaning but he could tell she was barely content. Her fingers appeared around him and spread herself open, and then Odysseus was forced inside. He struggled, but only for a moment. She was too powerful and she shoved him too hard. If he hadn’t straightened his body, he would’ve probably snapped at the spine.

All of the air rushed from his lungs as he moved deeper in. He tried to fight the closing walls but she fought back, bringing her muscles in so tight that his eyes bulged from his skull. He could feel her fingers snatch his ankle and he screamed a torrent of bubbles as she pulled him out, then shoved him in. Over and over, she did this, her juices sloshing all around. His little body was sore from the abuse but before she could kill him, her wetness erupted in such a blast that he was ejected like an arrow.

He lay in a wet heap between her legs. The fur skin blanket soaked up the juices as he pulled himself to his feet and cleared his eyes. When he could see, he was staring down a face so big and so pretty that he couldn’t be afraid. Odysseus flung the wetness from his fingers and said, “Why did you do that?”

“Because I needed it,” she said. “And be thankful. I’ll save you for last.”

“For last?”

Just then, she looked up and stared off through the doorway. Quickly, she scooped him up and carried him back to the cages where she stuffed him into one, alongside Eurylochus and Perimedes. Before he could address them, he heard men yelling out. It only took a moment to realize what had happened.

A trio of his soldiers had picked the lock of their cages and had fallen out through the bottom. Loose on the cave floor, they retrieved their armor and weapons. Now, arrows were sailing into the air as the giantess bent low and let out a horrid growl. She took a few steps forward and stomped a man until he was flat. His body exploded in a shower of red. As she ground her heel, flattening the metal of his armor, another brave soul approached. He was wielding a bronze sword and he slashed across her ankle with a mighty heave.

She staggered back a step and braced herself on the wall, then screamed down at him. He immediately dropped the sword and tried to run. Her finger slithered into the backside of his cuirass and as she lifted him, he fell out of it. He probably thought himself free, but she snatched him with her other hand. Then, she turned him upside down and pulled off the remaining clothes. Odysseus could hear him whimpering like a child. With her fingers around his ankle, she held him above her head and opened her mouth. The men in the cages rattled the bars and yelled in frustration and anger, but she simply giggled and ignored them.

The dangling man screamed as she suddenly let go, and he fell into her maw. For a moment she simply closed her lips around him and let him scream. His voice was muted on the other side of her mouth, but then she found Odysseus inside the cage and offered him a coy wink. And then, she bit down. The tiny man’s muffled screams turned to pure anguish but then they quickly went away. Whether it was because he’d been mangled too horribly, or because she swallowed him, Odysseus didn’t know.

The third man was pressed against the wall, holding a piece of flaming driftwood out, as if he could scare the woman away with mere fire. She took a knee, the boom shaking the cages. But the cages weren’t shaking nearly as much as the outstretched hands with the fire. Polyphemus brought her fingers together and extinguished it with a little hiss.

He tried to run but she was too fast. She kicked out, her toes driving into him so hard that he made a crack in the cave wall. A tiny trickle of blood ran between his lips as he leaned over, held aloft by her toes. She let him crumple to the floor, then picked him up. Rather than eat him, she simply tossed him into the bonfire.

After that, she appraised the remaining men, spread between four hanging cages, and then left the chamber. They could hear the stone at the entrance rolling aside, and then the giantess was gone.

“So what was that about?” Perimedes asked Odysseus. “You look as if you . . . had fun.”

“Against my will. She likes me for some reason but I’m no safer than the rest of you. We have to figure out when she’s away so that we can leave this place. We’ll take our chances on the high seas.”

The men talked well into the night, then one by one the voices silenced and they were all sleeping. The bonfire eventually burned to embers. They didn’t wake for several hours until the footsteps returned and the cages began rattling on their chains. Everyone stood and watched as she came around the corner carrying a wad of wool. She took it into room with her bed where she spent the remainder of the night.

When the sun began to come up, they could see the light coming from the entrance. Polyphemus didn’t roll the stone back into place. She was asleep—they could hear snoring coming from the bedchamber. One of Odysseus’s men, Moricles, said, “The cages don’t lock. She just assumes we won’t escape.”

“What are you saying?” Odysseus asked.

“That I’m leaving this place. Who’s with me?” A few of the men mumbled agreements but it was halfhearted.

“This is unwise,” Odysseus said.

Perimedes nodded. “It is. We need to wait. See what she does. Maybe we’ll get lucky and catch her gone and then we can sneak away.”

“You’re mad!” Moricles said. “If we wait, we’ll be her dinner. I’m taking the galley.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” said Odysseus.

Perimedes put a hand on his shoulder. “Let him go. He’ll never make it to the ship alive.”

But Odysseus couldn’t stop him anyway. Moricles was already slipping past the door. Six other men went with him—it would take a crew of at least three to even operate the ship. Odysseus couldn’t blame them. They were scared and this was one of the most challenging things they’d ever faced. He also knew better, and the moment they were on the cave floor, the giantess’s footsteps began to thump.

“Run!” Moricles shouted, leading a host of crewmen away. They were fast—so fast that Odysseus thought they might actually make it to the entrance but the giantess was even faster. She swooped by, her footfalls enough to chatter the men’s teeth.

A scream erupted under her foot, cut off almost instantly. She ground the pad into the cave floor before launching herself through the air with surprising dexterity and speed. Now, she was in front of the men, blocking any hopes of escape.

“You made a mistake, little people,” she said. Her hand lashed out and grabbed the nearest crewman. She squeezed, his body popping like a handful of grapes. Most of the others took this as their chance to turn around and head back inside, hopeful that they could hide amongst her treasure and scraps. One man was so fearful that he couldn’t move. Polyphemus raced toward him on her hands and knees. Just as his arms came up in a pathetic attempt to shield himself, her mouth opened, teeth came down, and she lifted him into the air. His screams came to a sudden stop as she bit into him, a pathetic piece of meat. With his bottom half limp, she threw her head into the air and let it slide down her throat.

Polyphemus sprang from her crouch and gave chase. Odysseus could only watch in horror, although he wasn’t surprised. One man tripped—but that was his last mistake. She slapped her hand across the cave floor with enough force to crack it. The little man caught between had no chance.

One by one she stomped them or threw them against the wall. When Polyphemus was angry, she was like a feral beast. The men who chose to stay in the cages were trembling, for none had seen such might. Odysseus thought he could make her see reason but it was too late. This entire slaughter was over in just a minute.

She saved Moricles for last. He’d made it back to the treasure pile and pulled out a sword as if he could ward off the giantess. And as an ultimate display of power, she grabbed it between two fingers and lifted him off the ground. Before he could let go and fall, she snatched him out of the air with her free hand. She brought him to her scowling face and licked her lips. He closed his eyes and whimpered, not sure of what she would do. Even though they all expected something horrific, Odysseus was still surprised.

Polyphemus grabbed his legs and pulled, jerking the tiny man into two pieces. A torrent of screams rattled the cages as she tossed both halves up into the air, then caught them in her mouth. After that, she yawned and headed back to bed as if nothing had happened.

***

The men lived in the cages for the next four days. Polyphemus began treating them more as pets than potential food. Odysseus credited this to their behavior which he vehemently ordered. Moricles was an example that the remaining nineteen men kept close to their chests.

The giantess fed them well, letting them sit around the bonfire with her while they tore apart roasted lamb and goat. They drank from a communal watering trough. Odysseus, with permission, inspected her refuse pile and found sacks of salt, dried mint, and chives. He used these to garnish the meat, something the giantess loved—and something that perhaps bolstered their survival chances.

Another week later and they were still living in cages. There’d been no more killing—sometimes she didn’t even seem to notice them until she was ready to feed them. Odysseus reasoned that she had her own flock of sheep outside, as some nights she came in after sheering them with sweat on her brow and clumps of wool in her hair.

One night as they listened to the giantess snore, Eurylochus crept close and whispered in Odysseus’ ear. “You know what she’s doing, right?”

“Yeah. I do. She’s fattening us up to make us a proper meal.”

Eurylochus nodded. “What do we do?”

“We wait. She’s trusting us more. I think if we’re lucky she could fall asleep as we sit around the fire. And then we can escape as one. We just have to find the opportunity.”

A few nights later, there was a terrible storm. They could hear the water leaking into the cave and could see the lightning flashes through the doorway. The next morning, Polyphemus left and returned carrying lots of supplies. She hauled in a two dozen casks of mead, many sacks of flour, grain, and salt. Odysseus was one of the few awake. He yawned and waved at her as she sat down the last of three loads.

She approached the cage and said, “A ship wrecked on the east side of the island. Lots of provisions strewn about. Do you think you could find more of the tasty spice?”

He nodded that he could, so she gingerly lifted him out and placed him on the floor. There were enough supplies to keep an army fed. But most importantly, she’d brought them so much mead that it would take weeks to drink it all. He didn’t think she’d give it to them, and that was just fine. Odysseus had an even better idea.

A month to the day of their captivity, Polyphemus began to eat the men. She started at one of the low-hanging cages, the one she assumed would be full of those who could easily escape. With both hands full, she bit into the first one, ending his screams. The way she moaned—it was erotic. After finishing off what remained, she placed the second man on the floor and stomped him flat. Then, she picked him up and ate him just the same. It was a struggle to keep calm. Odysseus knew they had to act fast. The time for waiting was over.

Lucky for him, she’d grown fond of him. Whenever she needed his help in the bedroom, he was there to provide the service. Once, she even took him outside and that’s when he learned of the flock of massive sheep that roamed the fields. She showed him where she bathed in the natural spring, and then carried him back to the cave.

“We should celebrate,” said the tiny man.

“Celebrate? I’m not familiar with that.”

“We’ve been your . . . guests . . . for over a month now. Let us drink the mead and be happy.”

“What’s mead?” she asked, curious.

Odysseus smiled. “You’re going to love it.”

***

So that night, as the giantess laid an oversized platter of wild boar between the men, Odysseus rolled the first of dozens of casks of mead by the fire. Using a dagger from the pile of gear, he tapped it and let the men scoop it up in golden chalices.

“Don’t lose your wits,” Odysseus whispered in Perimedes’ ear. “Tell the others.” The man nodded and took a small sip of the mead.

“Is it good?” asked Polyphemus, running her finger along the barrel, gathering up spilled mead. Odysseus surely hoped she thought so. The giantess sucked on her finger and closed her eyes. Then, she smiled and said, “My, my, my . . . this is quite nice.”

She picked up another cask and used her fingernail to poke a hole in the top. Then, she placed it against her lips and began to guzzle the mead—a whole cask worth. And though it was but a tiny bit to the giantess, she still opened her eyes wide and let out a tiny belch. Odysseus smiled up at her, then nodded to the remaining casks in the stack. There was plenty.

On her fifth one, she started to giggle. The men tried not to notice, for paying attention to her budding inebriation may have tipped off the giantess. One of the men, a fellow named Elpenor, found a lute in the middle of the pile and started to strum it. The giantess loved his upbeat hymn, but eventually she fell back against the rocks and grappled to stay seated. Her legs flew up into the air and came back down, her heel smashing the tiny man into a pulp. The strings of the lute snapped and the music faded away.

An hour and seven casks later, the giantess was asleep on her back, snoring softly. Throughout the night, Odysseus had shifted the barrels around with two purposes: To get the giantess drunk and to isolate their gear so that it wasn’t noisy when they later donned it all. The remaining men suited up, grabbed their sword belts, and started to creep by her massive feet. Odysseus thought they would truly make it but Eurylochus put a hand to his shoulder and stopped him.

“What if she wakes? That’s the end of us.”

“She won’t wake. We just have to be quiet,” he whispered back.

“He’s right,” said Perimedes. “We have to . . . keep her from pursuing. I don’t think we can kill her.”

“Then what do you suggest?” said the leader.

And then they launched perhaps their deadliest plan in history.

Ten minutes later, a pair of crewmen were walking up her chest. They were so light that they didn’t have to worry about her feeling their weight, only their tickle. But they moved slow, riding the waves of her deep, lumbering breaths. Lucky for them, her head was right next to the wall, so once they were at her shoulders, they leaped across to the rock and circled until they were above her head.

“Are you sure about this?” asked Odysseus. Eurylochus and Perimedes said nothing. They only watched.

The men drew their swords—long, slender blades that were mere toothpicks to the giantess. But it should’ve been enough. They looked at each other and Odysseus thought they were probably counting down so that they could be in sync. There was only one chance of this, and it had to be perfect.

Both men jumped off the rock, swords leading, and drove them down into her eyes. She screamed out, a roar that rattled the whole cave. She sat up, pulling the men with her. They were still hanging from the swords. Polyphemus snatched them, then hurled one into the wall and bit the other in half. She wasn’t in the mood to eat, so she spit him into the fire. Odysseus turned and ran with his men just as she reached up and plucked the swords from her eyes.

“Where are you?” She slapped the cages, knocking them down. “I’ll kill the lot of you for this!” Her ragged voice screamed again. Polyphemus knew the only way out, and she’d lived in the cave for years. So even without her vision, she ran in the right direction—and the only thing worse than an angry giantess was a chaotic angry giantess who could not see.

Her foot came down next to Odysseus—so close that he could feel the fan of blood hit his cheek. That got him running even more. The men may have had their armor, but they’d have been better off running naked. While the giantess was blinded, she was still able to hear the clinking metal.

Again, she stomped, and again men went flying. They were broken and bruised and their screams of pain led her right to them. She was in a fury now, bending down and pounding her fists into them. The splatters of men went all over the cave walls. Still, they ran and still she pursued.

Odysseus spied one look back to see the blood running down her face from her eyes. She was still beautiful, although he’d never seen this face on her before—pained, yet furious. It only bolstered his feet so he moved even faster.

She raked her hand across, taking out a pair of lagging men. They swooped into the air and hit the wall with a wet thump. Her mashing feet were a bigger problem, as they couldn’t outrun something so large. The only time they made progress was when she was lost to her frenzy and stopped to obliterate men she’d already crushed.

When they reached the exit, the field ahead was full of colossal sheep.

“She’s going to find us,” said Perimedes. “We have to hide.”

“On them,” said Odysseus. He pointed ahead to the animals just as he sheathed his sword.

The three men headed into the flock just as her footsteps sounded behind them. The sheep were so large that they could run beneath them and once Odysseus was under one such creature, he jumped up, grabbed onto the wool, and held on. Now, he was looking back toward the cave, upside down. The giantess stepped into the light and looked around, her body rigid, her jaw set.

“I know you’re here!” she said. She reached next to the cave door and found a staff—a tree trunk nearly as tall as her. She tapped it on the ground and the sheep scattered. He held on as his current carriage took him away from the giantess. And through the trees, he could see slivers of the beach. When he was sure he was far enough away, he let go of the sheep and ran for the trees.

He waited for only a moment, and then Perimedes and Eurylochus found him. It seemed as if they were the only three to make it out of the cave alive. Polyphemus was in such a rage that she lifted the sheep in her path and tossed them aside as if they were made of straw. For a moment, the trio of men just stared at her—from a distance, she wasn’t nearly as scary.

“I can’t believe we survived her,” said Eurylochus.

“She’ll not soon forget us,” Odysseus said.

“What now?” asked Perimedes.

The captain of the galley watched a moment longer, watched as she tramped around in blind frustration. “Now,” he said, “we go home.”

Copyright 2022. Amber Collins. All Rights Reserved.