They read the leader, and a long article which amounted to little more than a recapitulation of what everyone already knew. The American submarine was sitting on the bottom under the ice in a bay on the Arctic coast of Russia. She was hemmed in by Soviet surface ships, and Moscow, asserting that she had been on a spying mission, demanded her surrender. As a gesture, the Russians had offered to release and return her crew, but they insisted on the ship being handed over undamaged and complete with all her secrets. The Americans continued to refuse.
Since there was nothing that Robbie and Stephanie—or the many millions of other people whose lives hung upon the issue— could do about it, they returned to their own affairs, and Stephanie searched through the paper to see if there was any mention of themselves. But, as they had supposed, it was too early for the police to have issued any statement to the Press.
Stephanie had also secured their air tickets. She said that she had taken them in the names of Monsieur and Madame Max Thevanaz and had given their nationality as Swiss, as a precaution against their being forced into contact with either German or French people at the des Roses. In the first case, their imperfect accents would be accounted for by the belief that they were French Swiss and, in the second, German Swiss.
Later in the afternoon Robbie bought himself, now that he no longer had to be so careful about what he spent, a dark blue suit for evening wear, a raincoat and a soft hat. Then they went to the G.P.O.; and, to his considerable relief, he saw his precious manuscript handed over to Stephanie. He straightway re-addressed it to himself, to await collection, care of Luke Beecham, then posted it off again.
On the Tuesday morning they were up early, because they had to be at the Air Terminal in Constitution Square by half past seven. There Robbie wrote labels in the name of 'Max Thevanaz' and tied them on to their luggage. The bus then took them out to Phaieron, where they spent an anxious half hour going through the formalities. But Robbie was wearing his dark spectacles and carrying his hat in his hand, so that his semi-shaved head might mislead anyone who thought he recognized him. He was given no cause for anxiety and, soon after eight-thirty, they were airborne on their way to Rhodes.
In less than ten minutes, they had crossed the Sounion Peninsula and were heading out over the blue Aegean, glittering in the sun and starred With its many rocky islands. The big islands of Andros, Kea and Kithnos could all be seen clearly from the aircraft. It passed right over Siros and, when half an hour out from Athens, over Delos.
Once up in the air, Robbie had felt a sudden relief from the tension under which he had been for several days. In Rhodes he would still be liable to be picked up by the Greek police and charged with Cepicka's murder, but the psychological effect of having got safely away from the mainland acted on him like a tonic. For the first time in nearly a week his mind ceased to be occupied with his personal anxieties, and he craned eagerly forward to see as much as he could of the sacred island on which the mighty twins, Apollo and Artemis, had been born.
Looking down on Delos made him think of his book and, in his new mood of optimism, he allowed himself to assume that somehow he would get out of the mess he was in and, in due course, finish the book. The islands below them brought to his mind Ithaca, of which Odysseus had been Prince, although that lay far away on the other side of Greece. He wondered again if he should include a chapter on the Odyssey and, as he had already done one on Homer's other immortal epic, the Iliad, with its tale of Troy, felt that perhaps he should.
That Odysseus had taken ten years to get home from the siege of Troy had been due to his incurring the wrath of Poseidon, because he had blinded one of the Sea God's sons, the Cyclopes, Polyphemus, by driving a pointed stake through the giant's solitary eye. Thinking of that, Robbie suddenly wondered if all his recent troubles had been brought on him owing to Athene's anger at his having signed that promise at Pirgos to abandon his mission. If so he could only pray that, now he had resumed it, she would forgive him.
Poseidon never let up on the unfortunate Odysseus and he was unlucky from the start. He lost some of his men on the island of the Lotus-Eaters and others were eaten by Polyphemus. Then, after the King of the Winds had tied up all the winds in a bag for him, except one which very nearly brought him home, his inquisitive sailors opened the bag and his ships were driven to the land of the fierce Laestrygonians, who murdered the crews of all the vessels except his own.
The survivors next came to the island of the lovely enchantress, Circe, who turned a number of them into swine. Odysseus saved himself and rescued them only through the god Hermes giving him a more potent drug than that used by the witch. He became her lover and stayed there a year, until his homesick men became mutinous. Circe let them go but said they would never reach home unless they consulted the ghost of the blind seer Tiresias. Under Circe's directions they reached the land of perpetual night, and there dug a great hole into which they poured the blood of sacrificed oxen, while Odysseus called on the shade of Tiresias to appear. The smell of the blood brought the ghosts crowding up from Hades to lap at it and so enjoy a brief return to life. Among them was his mother, whom he had not known to be dead, Agamemnon, Achilles, Ajax and others of his companions at the siege of Troy. At last old Tiresias appeared and prophesied that, although Poseidon's malice would continue to give them a rough passage, they might get safely home provided that, should they come to the coast of Trinaeria, they did no harm to the Sun god's cattle pastured there.
On their return to Circe's isle, she gave Odysseus further good counsel, for they next had to sail through the waters of the Sea Sirens, whose beautiful voices lured sailors to their death. She told him to stop the ears of his crew with wax and have himself lashed to the mast. Circe's advice saved them but they then had to pass between Scylla and Charybdis, a narrow passage of grim rocks made trebly dangerous on the one side by great waterspouts belched out by a daughter of Poseidon, and on the other by a six-headed monster that plucked six of Odysseus's best men from the vessel as it passed.
They came then to Trinaeria and went ashore. Contrary winds kept them there for a month and they exhausted all their provisions. Odysseus's lieutenant, Eurylochus, incited the starving sailors to revolt and, despite the warning of Tiresias, they slew the Sun god's cattle. After a week of feasting, a favourable wind sprang up; but no sooner were they out of sight of land than vengeance fell upon them. A tempest arose, the vessel was sunk and all hands lost, except Odysseus. He succeeded in clinging to some wreckage and, after nine days and nights, was washed ashore on the island of Ogygia, on which lived Atlas's divinely beautiful daughter, Calypso.
He lived with her for seven years, but at last became homesick again; so Zeus decreed that Calypso must release him. He built himself a raft but, on his seventeenth day at sea, Poseidon learned what had happened and sent a storm that wrecked it. A sea nymph saved him by throwing him her veil and, three days later, he was washed up naked on the shores of the rich kingdom of Phaeacia.
At last his luck changed. The King's daughter, Nausicaa, found and clothed him. Her father received him kindly and, on learning that he was Odysseus, renowned for his exploits before Troy, but believed dead long since, did him great honour, then lent him one of his ships. When they reached Ithaca, Odysseus was still asleep. The sailors carried him ashore on his bed, leaving many rich gifts beside him on the beach, and when he awoke he found himself in his own land again at last.
It was twenty years since he had left it. Telemachus, his son, whom he had left an infant, was now grown up. His wife, Penelope, had remained faithful to him, although he had been reported dead, and a nurpber of nobles were endeavouring to force her to marry one of them. Believing him to be still alive, she had resisted their pressure by saying that she would choose a new husband only when she had finished weaving a beautiful shroud for old Laertes, Odysseus's father. Each night she undid most of the work she had done on it during the day.