AHEAD OF US WAS A RIVER WITH WATER SO BLACK, it looked like night had been captured and trapped inside.
“Don’t be afraid, Bard,” Odysseus said.
“I’m not.” I said, but my voice shook, because out of the blackness a boat drifted toward us. It slid up onto the rocky sand where we stood and then a cloaked figure extended a hand, palm up. And I really wished Dory was here next to me, even though she was annoying a lot of the time.
It didn’t take a genius to figure out who the cloaked guy was: Charon, Ferryman of the Dead. Everyone knew that Charon was the guy who carted you across the River Styx when it was your time to head to the Underworld. Which it definitely wasn’t right now. I had lots of life left ahead of me.
“Did you bring any money?” I whispered to Odysseus. The only thing in my pockets besides extra ink were crumbs from the rolls Dory snuck me.
“Always be prepared, Bard,” Odysseus said, and he reached into his pocket and pulled out two large gold coins.
Two. Which meant that he was planning on me crossing the River Styx along with him.
Odysseus handed the gold coins over to Charon who flipped them around his long bony fingers like some kind of magic trick.
“Good. Good. You brought money,” Charon cackled in a voice that sounded like a cross between a crow and a hyena. “So many try to cross without money.”
“And do you let them?” I asked, finding my voice even though part of my brain cautioned me to stay really quiet.
Charon leaned way forward until his hood was right in my face. I couldn’t see anything inside the hood. It was like an empty pit filled with blackness. But I felt like he could see into my soul.
“Failing school,” he said, making a clucking sound. “That’s not good at all.”
I took a step back. “I’m not failing school.”
“You’re failing?” Odysseus said. “I was under the assumption that you were a master storyteller.”
I put my hands up. “Okay, just a second here. I really don’t see how it’s either of your business what my grades are.”
“It’s my business because you’re telling my story,” Odysseus said.
I crossed my arms. “Then we better get on with that story.”
Odysseus laughed, just a small chuckle there by the River Styx, but enough to break through the death around us. “True, Bard. On with our journey.”
Charon stepped back to let us by. “Fine. Onto the boat. But don’t let your grades slip. School is important, though I don’t see being a soldier in your future. No, the Fates have different plans for you.”
The Fates had no idea what they were talking about, and neither did Charon. I was definitely going to be a soldier, just like my dad.
“If you take us across, will we be able to come back?” I asked. I had no intention of getting stuck in the Underworld forever.
“Are you dead?” Charon asked.
I shook my head slowly. I may have traveled back in time, thanks to the powers of the gods, but I was not dead. “I’m very much alive. And so is Odysseus.”
“Not if he keeps doing stupid stuff,” Charon said.
“Stupid like what?” Odysseus said.
“Like making the gods mad,” Charon said. “Now get on the boat. Time is wasting.”
Odysseus and I climbed aboard. Even though I’d been living on a ship for almost two years, my legs still went all wobbly as the boat swayed in the river. I sank to the bench and leaned out to look over the side as we pulled away from the shore.
“Not too close to the edge,” Charon said. “The monsters’ll eat something as small as you in one bite.”
Monsters. Was there no end to what we’d face? I scooted to the center of the bench, and Charon pushed us across to the other side.
Charon told us not to leave the shore. That the dead would come to us. And then he pushed his black boat back into the black water and slipped away into the fog.
Odysseus sat the giant jug he’d been carting around onto the shore, and we waited, but no dead people showed up. He tried to be all cool, like he had this thing totally under control, but finally he started looking left and right and pacing back and forth.
“She told me to come here. To sacrifice to the dead,” Odysseus said. “She told me they would give me guidance.”
She had to be Circe. I wasn’t about to mention that following the advice of a witch wasn’t the smartest thing to do. I figured we could wait a bit longer. Then, when no dead people came to see us, we could leave. Sail back east to Ithaca.
“What’s in the jar, anyway?” I asked, bending closer so I could get a better look. It was covered with a thick piece of leather and looked like it had tar inside.
“Our sacrifice,” Odysseus said.
“Which is what?” I pulled at the edge of the leather, lifting it just slightly. But maybe I lifted it too much, because a horrendous stench filled the air around us.
“Black blood,” Odysseus said.
And the dead began to come.
I recognized the first guy who walked up to us immediately. It was one of the guys from our ship. I’d just seen him back on Circe’s island.
“Elpenor!” Odysseus said. “What are you doing here?”
It was obvious that he was being dead here. He didn’t act like he recognized us at all. Instead, he drifted forward, sniffing the air, until he was right in front of the jar of black blood. Without a word, he lifted the jar to his mouth and drank. His lips were covered in the blood, but he licked them clean and recognition finally registered in his eyes.
“King Odysseus, you left me,” he said.
“Left you?” Odysseus said. “We stayed for a year. Then we sailed on. Why weren’t you on the ship when we set sail?”
Come to think of it, I hadn’t seen this guy since before we left the island.
“I fell off a roof, man,” Elpenor said. “Nobody noticed.”
“Fell off a roof?” Odysseus said. “Why in the name of the gods would you do that?”
“I didn’t mean to,” Elpenor said. “It was an accident. I had way too much of that mead. And now all these animals are grazing around my body, peeing on me. Maybe, if it’s not too much trouble, you could come back and bury me.”
Everyone knew you had to bury the dead. Otherwise they’d never be at rest. It was just one of those things taught since birth. Respected.
“Consider it done,” Odysseus said because this was his crewmate. “We will give you the rest you deserve.”
“Thank you,” Elpenor said.
“Oh, and sorry that nobody noticed,” I added. That seemed like the worst part of it. That this poor guy had gone and fallen off the roof and died and nobody had even noticed he was gone. I liked to think that Dory, at least, had my back should I ever fall off a roof and die.
“It’s good to have friends,” Elpenor said, and then he walked away.
Some old guy walked up to us next. No wait. It was a lady. No, that wasn’t right. It was a guy, but he looked a lot like a woman with his long hair as the lights around the shore shone down on him. He didn’t even look at the jar of blood.
“King Odysseus,” the old guy said.
“Prophet Tiresias,” Odysseus said, and he bowed low.
“Prophet!” the old guy said. “That’s a hoot! I haven’t told a prophecy in years.”
This wasn’t sounding all that encouraging.
“We come for your help,” Odysseus said.
“Help! What help can I offer the King of Ithaca?” Tiresias said.
“Well, man, that’s the problem,” Odysseus said. “We’re having a bit of an issue getting back.” And Odysseus told him all about the cyclops and our fight with Poseidon, and how now Poseidon was making it super hard for us to get home.
“You messed up, Odysseus,” Tiresias said. “You shouldn’t have made the god angry in the first place.”
Odysseus pursed his lips. “Be that as it may be, the damage is done. What can I do about it now?”
“Not much,” Tiresias said. “Except try to make it up to the god.”
“And how should I do that?” Odysseus said. “I seek your guidance.”
Tiresias pulled a rolled-up scroll out from under his robes. “I’ve got a twelve step plan for you, including what you should do once you get back to Ithaca,” he said, handing it over. “But I’m going to warn you. It’s not easy. The first step is the hardest. You have to admit that you’re powerless in the face of the gods.”
Odysseus studied the list, and his eyes narrowed with each line he read.
“Hmmm …,” Odysseus said. “These steps will not be easy.”
Nothing on this journey had been easy so far. I didn’t see how Odysseus thought anything was going to change.
“But if this is what it takes, then I will make it my master,” Odysseus said, stuffing the list into his pocket.
“Oh, and one more thing,” Tiresias said. “Don’t eat the cattle.”
“What cattle?” Odysseus asked, but Tiresias faded away.
“So, we got what we came for?” I said.
“Possibly,” Odysseus said, but then another person appeared on the shore and walked over to the jar.
“Mother,” Odysseus said when he saw her.
Recognition didn’t shine in her eyes until she finished drinking from the jar of blood. But then, she saw her son, and she ran to him, and they embraced. And tears ran down Odysseus’ face.
“What evil is this that you are here, Mother?” Odysseus said.
She pulled back from the hug, and then she slapped him. “You left your poor mother,” she said. “What kind of son are you? For years on end. I watched out for your wife and your son, but you stayed away so long.”
“It’s taken us longer to return than I had hoped,” Odysseus said. “But we’re coming. I swear it.”
“And what do you swear on? Your mother’s grave? Because that’s what you’ll find when you get back there.”
“But why did you die? How did this horror come to be?”
Well, it turned out that his mom died from being so sad because he’d been gone so long. And then she filled him in on everything that he’d been missing at home. And the more words she spoke, the angrier Odysseus grew.
“Poseidon will pay for keeping me away for so long,” Odysseus said.
“No,” I piped up before I thought better of it. “Don’t you get it? You need to make up with Poseidon. Not make him even angrier.”
“The boy is right,” Odysseus’ mom said, thumping him on the side of the head. “Use that brain of yours. You’re not king for nothing.”
She faded away. But my mind started churning. And my heart pounded in my chest.
A couple other guys visited Odysseus after his mom. Agamemnon, who’d been the king who convinced Odysseus to fight in the war in the first place. Odysseus hadn’t known he was dead. Achilles, this awesome hero from the Trojan War who the guys talked about like he was some sort of god. I couldn’t focus on either of them. Now that Odysseus had seen his mom, my mind could only think of one thing.
Because I had to know. One way or the other.
I closed my eyes and prayed to see him if he was here. I prayed to Hermes because he kind of seemed like he was on my side. I prayed to Hades and Persephone since they ruled the Underworld. And then I just prayed. To any god who might listen and grant me this one small request.
And then I prayed that he didn’t show up. That he really was still alive and my hope that I’d been holding onto for so long wasn’t in vain.
But it wasn’t to be.
From the darkness, a shadow appeared. Odysseus, as if he knew, took a step back. The shadow crept to the jar of blood and drank. And then his eyes found mine and recognition brightened his face.
“Homer!” he called and held his arms open wide.
My heart sank because seeing him here meant he really was dead. He wasn’t on a journey to come home to Mom and me. We’d never see him again, at least not outside of this place. And the sorrow of this thought threatened to overwhelm me. But the happiness on Dad’s face forced me to push past it. If this was the only chance I had to see Dad—to get the closure that I desperately needed—then I was not going to waste it.
“Dad!” I said, and I ran toward him and let him engulf me in his arms, just like he’d done so many times when I was younger. He held me tight and stroked my hair, and I pressed my face against his chest and wished that I could stay here forever, with him.
“Homer, look at you,” Dad said, stepping back enough that he could see me. “You’re so grown up. What happened?”
“Puberty?” I said, trying to use humor to avoid the true crushing emotions that ran through me.
“Has it been that long?” Dad asked.
“Over two years,” I said. “I waited for you. I turned the hourglass just like you told me to. I went to town when the other soldiers came home. But you weren’t there. You never came back.”
“And I’m so sorry,” Dad said. “I thought about you every day. Missed you so much. I used to tell stories about you. To the other soldiers. Did you know that?”
I shook my head, not trusting myself to speak.
“I told them how brave you were. And how smart you were. And how I knew you were destined for great things.”
I swallowed hard, not wanting to disappoint Dad by telling him how wrong he was.
Dad laughed and ruffled my hair. “It does my heart good to see you so grown up.”
“It does my heart good to see you,” I said and swallowed the lump in my throat.
“How is your mother?” Dad asked. “Are you taking care of her, now that you’re head of the household?”
I thought about how close I’d come to failing so many times already. And how if I failed, Mom would be lost. And how I had to tell her that Dad really was dead. That he wasn’t coming back. Every bit of determination inside me doubled. I had to get home. I could not fail Mom, and I could not let Dad down.
“I’m taking really good care of her, Dad,” I said. “But she misses you. We both do.”
He reached forward and grasped the hourglass hanging around my neck. “I’m always with you, Homer. Even when you think I’m not. I’m there, watching you. Just talk to me, if you need to. I’ll hear you, even if I can’t answer. I’ll be there beside you. Always.”
I wrapped my hands around his, realizing how small my hands were in comparison to him. I still had a lot of growing to do before I became anywhere near the man that Dad was.
“I love you, Dad,” I said.
“I love you, Homer.” And with that, Dad drifted away.
As if he knew exactly what I needed, Odysseus stepped forward and rested his hand on my shoulder.
“He would be proud of you, Bard,” Odysseus said. “Your bravery. Your loyalty. Your determination. Just as I’m proud of you. The world needs people like you. People who make a difference.”
I nodded slowly. I had to stay the path. Continue to make him proud. Make them both proud.
Odysseus and I stayed there until the silhouette of Dad slipped back into shadow and vanished entirely. And then the rustling of the dead began again.
One more person came toward us. He drank from the jar of blood, and recognition registered in his eyes.
“Ajax,” Odysseus said, and he moved forward to greet the dead.
But Ajax turned his back and refused to talk to Odysseus, no matter what Odysseus said.
So finally, Odysseus gave up. It was one conversation that was not meant to be.
We turned back to the water. The boat with Charon was just coming to shore. And there, right up front, was Dory.
Dory got off the boat even as Odysseus stepped on.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
“I had to come,” Dory said, and then her eyes drifted past me to the figure who still stood on the beach with his back toward us.
She walked forward, toward Ajax. I trailed after her because I didn’t like the idea of her going ahead alone. And when she got about five feet away from the dead Greek hero, he turned to face her.
“You’re alive,” Ajax said when his eyes found her.
Dory nodded slowly. “You called me here,” she said. “In my mind. I heard you. But do I know you?”
“I thought you were dead,” Ajax said. “I thought they killed you. You were just a baby.”
Wait. I had no clue what was going on here. Ajax knew who Dory was? But how was that even possible? Dory was from Ionia. A slave. Ajax had been in Troy, fighting in the war.
“I remember … noise,” Dory said. “Fear.”
“I thought I’d never see you again,” Ajax said. “You were supposed to be on a ship. I put you there myself. But then the ship … They said it was destroyed.”
“I don’t know you,” Dory said, but she didn’t sound entirely convinced.
“I know you,” Ajax said. “And I’m sorry I failed you.” Then a single tear rolled down his face before he turned away. And that’s when I noticed that the tattoo Dory had on the back of her neck that she always tried to keep hidden … Ajax had one just like it. And I knew I’d seen the tattooed symbol somewhere else—it was really familiar—but I couldn’t remember where.
We waited until Ajax faded into the mist, then we turned and walked away, back to the boat where Odysseus and Charon waited. Odysseus didn’t ask Dory what Ajax had said, and she didn’t offer it up either. We drifted across the River Styx and through the crack in the world and back to where the guys waited.
Odysseus didn’t talk about what had happened in the Underworld. But I wrote it all down because it was definitely a part of his story. The part with Dad wasn’t. I kept that to myself. I’d share it with Mom once I got home. Because I would get home.
As for the conversation with Ajax, I wrote that down, too. And I drew the symbol. The tattoo. It might not fit in the same story as Odysseus, but it must have a story all of its own.