Of Waves and War

15: i will hang on however hard it is

Telemachus

The goddess gave very little instruction. How do I know it was a goddess? Well she turned into an owl and flew away last I checked mortals don't do that, but the goddess Athena who is a great friend of my dad's does.

But what did she mean, prepare? I'm trying to get rid of the suitors, but after this morning and them throwing things at me my trombone is broken and my cymbals got bent when they knocked me over and tried to push me out of my own house.

So it must not be that. That isn't going well. No, she said get ready for my dad to come home. But where's he coming from? And what's taken so long?

I can't go home just yet I don't feel like facing the hoards of men.

No, I'm not worried about my mother. THEY should be worried about my mother. My father once told me that the thing people most misunderstood about him and my mum was that they were afraid of him and not her. Well, he didn't tell me that. He wrote it to me. I suppose he might have told me, but I was tiny and so I don't remember.

It's late by the time I make my way to the docks. I don't even know why I'm going at first. But right now I just need to find out anything to help my dad come home.

"Nestor, you fought with my father, didn't you?" I ask, when I find the old man fishing at the docks. He returned ages ago, with one of the batches of soldiers my mother and I greeted, looking for my father.

"I did yes, boy," he says, motioning for me to sit. His son, Eche, smiles at me. They aren't from Ithaca, but this port is shared with theirs. Despite their wealth they are dressed as regular fishermen, and don't appear to be having any luck.

"As you know he's still not home—"

"Still?" he sighs.

"No," I say, a bit frustrated, "I know you fought with him, but I do not care for war stories. Can you tell me what you last saw of him?"

"We were leaving, everyone boarding their ships. There had been great carnage and he kept insisting the goddess Athena was not pleased by the brutality," Nestor says.

"And?" I ask.

"And that's all I'm afraid. I bid him farewell and he sailed soon after I did. I'm afraid I'm as lost as any as to what befell him," he says.

"A traveler claimed they'd heard tell of him," I lie.

"Oh, you don't say?"

"Yes, it's true," I lie, "But they knew little and so I'm trying to maybe piece together clues we might have missed as to where he might be if he does still live."

"Well best of luck to you boy, don't worry your mother though," he says.

"I won't, well, thank you anyway for your time," I say.

"Have you spoken to your aunt at all?"

"Aunt Helen?" I frown, "Not lately."

"She may know more than I, though she escaped before we left," he says.

"I could ask her I suppose," I say. It's a long journey by boat. And I already haven't told my mother where I am.

"I'll come with," Eche says, hopping up, happily, "Can I, father? We could go together."

"Yes, go on, a boat sails at the next tide," Nestor says.

"You'll help?" I ask, hopefully.

"Of course," Eche says, cheerfully, "It's a long way you ought not go alone."

"Nestor, can you send word to my mother?" I ask, hopefully.

"I'll get her a message."

"Thank you!"

"This way, I know of a ship," Eche says, bouncing.

"Excellent," maybe things are looking up for us.