He did not answer, but pressed on with his plea. “We saw a column of smoke, and sailed here directly. We must restock our supplies before we can continue on our journey.”
I pressed my lips together. We had allowed the promontory fire to burn out days ago; it was nothing but a pile of cold ashes now. I would have lit it again, to draw in traders who might possess the wood I needed for the swine-yard fence, but these Ithacans had interfered with this social call.
Eurylochus glanced up at the sky, pure and blue above the great clearing, unmarred by smoke. He seemed to understand my hesitation. “We have borne steadily toward this island for several days now, even after the smoke died away. Odysseus reasoned that such a fire could only have been created and tended by men…er, that is to say, people, for it did not seem to spread, as a wildfire would.”
The Ithacan’s persistence annoyed me. It seemed a foreglimpse of unpleasantries to come. “We are hardly convenient, here on Aeaea. Surely there were other islands along the way. You might have visited any of them, and sought the food you need there.”
“No islands that showed such obvious signs of life,” Eurylochus said. “We couldn’t take the chance. Anyhow, there are too many great, jagged rocks in the vicinity. We could have wrecked our ship, sunk it in a trice.”
A pity you didn’t, I thought. If only the rocks of Anthemoessa had taken your ship instead of our little boat—and your king instead of our dear Chrysomallo. “But don’t you know how to get your own food from the land? With or without people to tend it, nearly every patch of soil provides sustenance.”
The Ithacans looked at one another, murmuring behind their hands. I could feel their suspicious glances, though I did not break eye contact with their second-in-command. They found my proclamation absurd.
“We can fish,” Eurylochus said. “Of course. But we have lived aboard our ship for long, and longer still, my lady. We have no patch of soil.”
“You sailed past hundreds of patches,” I said acerbically.
“My lady, it is not as simple as you think, to conjure food from the earth.” His patronizing tone infuriated me; I tightened my grip on the distaff to keep myself from trembling with anger. “It is not even a simple thing to pull fish from the sea. Who can say where the best schools swim—how to find them, what time of day to cast the nets?”
I retorted before I could counsel myself to a wiser silence. “You might say. The seasons provide—not only food, but knowledge. All one must do is observe the land—or the sea, if one sails. The gods are not so retiring that they hide all hint of their designs from human understanding. Watch the weather, the plants, the animals.”
At my mention of animals, Eurylochus’s gaze shifted nervously to Caicias. His men looked, too, peering around the clearing at the wolf pack, which had left Caicias to slink about, patrolling the perimeter of our clearing. I noted the Ithacans’ hands, groping anxiously at hilts of sword and dagger. I could have calmed the men’s fears, reassured them that the wolves had tamed themselves—indeed, that they had been friends and allies to us, and never harmed one of my women. Quickly, I decided to hold my tongue. If they truly believed me a witch, capable of taming wolves with my sorcery, then so be it. Fear of my “powers” could give me some advantage in the negotiations to come. Certainly, I could not expect to rid myself of the Ithacans easily. There were far too many of them, and their need was too great. Men desperate for food could be moved to all sorts of depravities.
“I should like to help you,” I said neutrally, “but I’m afraid I cannot. We have had a difficult summer; the harvest has been poor. We have no food to spare.”
Eurylochus tore his eyes from the wolf and nodded to the swine-yard beyond where we stood. “You have pigs. We’ll take them all.”
I could feel my face darken as the blood rushed to my cheeks. “You will take none. Our wheat and barley were blighted, and we lost our fishing boat in a terrible accident. Those pigs are our only hope for the winter.”
Eurylochus smiled, patiently mocking. “I am sorry to hear of your misfortunes, my lady, but nevertheless: we have come here seeking food, and we will not leave without it.”
Despite the wolf at my side, Eurylochus moved toward me. A few of his men advanced, too; my gaze flicked to their belts, and I could see that every Ithacan grasped the hilt of his weapon. Behind me, Agathe growled like a wolf herself. I could feel her tension, feel her readiness to run for the spears she had hidden nearby. If she broke rank, the other women might do the same. I had to act quickly, before we opened ourselves to slaughter.
“Wait.” I lifted my hand from Caicias’s head, stalling the Ithacans with a gesture. “We cannot sacrifice our winter stores to you, for we are exiles, with no way to leave our island. This small farm is all we have, to provide for all our needs. Without our stores—and our swine—we would be left with nothing. But we can feed you for one night. Let us fill your bellies, and gods willing, you’ll be fortified enough to sail on to the peninsula. I can tell you how to find it; the mainland isn’t terribly far away. There, you’ll find more abundant food, and people who are not so desperate that they can’t afford to share.”
Eurylochus paused, considering my offer. His men muttered and nudged one another with their shoulders. Some were clearly eager for food—and, I thought wryly, for the company of the women. Others still hesitated. Was it my alleged witchery that frightened them so? Or had their king, this Odysseus, charged them with special instructions? Perhaps a night of feasting went too far against their orders.
I could have said, “Go and fetch your king; we will feed him, too.” But for some reason I could not name, the mere thought of the Ithacan ruler chilled me and turned my stomach. I would not put thought of Odysseus into their heads; let the men do with their king—and his commands—whatever they would. The matter no business of mine.
Finally, Eurylochus said, “Very well. If you will swear to direct us to a better source of food, we will feast with you tonight.” A sudden sheen of moisture gleamed on his lips. The mere thought of our poor, paltry food-stores had set him to salivating.
“Then my women and I will set to work.” I turned away, leaving Eurylochus to deal with his men.
Anthousa hurried to my side as I strode toward our mudbrick oven. “Circe! We cannot feed all these men.”
“We shall have to. You heard that tangle-haired beast; if we don’t give them something, they’ll take our swine herd. Thank the gods they haven’t seen our sheep yet, but if they take a mind to explore the island, they’ll soon find that herd, too.”