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maxdurden · 2 years ago

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Lend to me your Hallowed Gaze Tonight

Read it on ao3 here!

Story: Braved by your Heart's Resolve

Chapter: 5/? "Let us Live in the Sun"

Characters: Telemachus of Ithaca, Peisistratus of Pylos, Athena, Polycaste of Pylos, Nestor of Pylos, Diocles of Phera

Pairing: Telemachus/Peisistratus

A hazy halo of red hugged the world’s horizon, climbing the edges of Diocles’ hall’s humble silhouette. Peisistratus did not need a good view of the palace, much smaller than his home, to know what it looked like. It sat atop a wide hill, with a usually stunning view of the sea to its south. Now, the waves were gray and pallid in the waning day’s light. The sound of crashing waves climbed to the castle walls, where the shouting voices of men came down to join the steady roaring noise. Even as Peisistratus pulled on the reins, bringing his team to a stop, he knew that men were announcing their arrival to Diocles.

The old king came to meet them at the gates. He was hunched and withered, a few years younger than Peisistratus’ own father but he bore his age like a mortal man. Still, his wrinkled face brightened at the sight of his guests.

“Young prince Peisistratus!” He called, voice brittle from generations of use. He was an honorable man, and knew the customs of their people well. Peisistratus had no doubt that he had many questions for the son of Odysseus, but now was not the time to ask them. “Come, we’ve prepared a banquet for you and your companion. A crier sent by King Nestor told me you would be resting here before continuing on your journey.”

More likely a crier sent by his mother, Peisistratus knew, but made no correction. “Thank you for your hospitality, King Diocles.” He said, inclining his head in reverence before easily hopping down from the chariot.

Telemachus was unsteady on his feet behind him. Even Peisistratus’ joints, well acquainted with the strains of horse and chariot riding, cracked with the sudden movement. Telemachus wore his soreness plainly, his gait slightly uneven, favoring his left side, and a grimace curling at his lips. Sneaking a glance in his direction, Peisistratus had to hold back a smile, startled by the sudden, fierce fondness beating against the cage in his chest.

Diocles eagerly ushered them into his halls, dim and cramped in comparison to Peisistratus’ home. Tapestries hung from the walls, thick and adept at holding in the meager warmth supplied by torches and fires. The sea’s wind was merciless here, especially in the colder months. Peisistratus and his brothers had visited Phera frequently enough as children, rushing up and down the halls and shouting excitedly while their mother and Echephron discussed politics in stuffy studies and throne rooms. They passed a fine tapestry depicting the story of Arachne and Peisistratus searched it for the small tear he and Polycaste had accidentally caused during a particularly rambunctious game over a decade ago. It disfigured the faultless embodiment of Athena at the center of the tableau, a small jagged imperfection on her sandal.

Servants passed them with increasing frequency and urgency as they neared the great hall. Before they could lay eyes on the feast, the smells reached them. Warmth spilled from the well-lit room beyond the antechamber, along with rich smells of roasting meat and the tang of honeyed wine. Before they could enter, Diocles turned to the side, leading them down a row of dark, narrow halls.

“The serving girls will bathe you, and then lead you to your banquet.” The baths were not the polished, raised things of richer kings, but large man-made pools dug into the floors. Communal bathing was common for the kinds of cleaning which didn’t serve a ritual purpose. Steam rose lazily from the water, and the floral, earthy smell of sage undercut by coriander’s citrus sting rose with it. Perfumes must have been added to the water, likely received from the halls of Pylos’ own palace in exchange for Diocles’ plentiful wheat or other such goods set aside for trading.

The young princes took their turn thanking the king before they were set upon by serving girls. Their hands were deft with practice, and rushed by the late arrival of their guests. Unlike the night before, in Peisistratus’ chambers, Telemachus was not so shy with his gaze. Peisistratus felt it on him as he was stripped down and eased into the warm water. He caught Telemachus’ eye when the serving girls turned their attention to him.

A dark, rosy color dusted Telemachus’ cheeks, tinting the tip of his nose in bashful radiance. It felt as though a small eternity had passed before they were alone, the serving girls scurrying off to find clean tunics for them to wear after inspecting the state of their grass stained chitons.

“This water.” Surprisingly, it was Telemachus who was first to speak. “It smells like you.”

Peisistratus thought about sharing a bed the night before, the careful way he had cataloged Telemachus’ smell—earthy like the forest after rain. Had Telemachus been doing the same? Something about the thought balled up a fist in his chest.

“Pylos makes many perfumes. We have traded with Lord Diocles for as long as I can remember.” He admitted, his mind too scattered to supply much else other than an explanation for the similarity.

“It’s very pleasant.” Telemachus practically hummed, sinking down until he could submerge his head under the warm water. It was less pristine now than it had been when they had entered, the dirt of a day-long ride relentlessly scrubbed from them by the hands of serving girls. Still, Peisistratus watched as curls, colored a deep brown when wet, floated stubbornly above the water before being pulled under as well. Telemachus surfaced, water running lazily down his chest.

Peisistratus tried to tear his eyes away, looking instead at the way ripples disturbed the bath as a result of the motion, but they were always pulled back. Telemachus’ curls looked much darker now, no traces of red visible, as they hung limply into his eyes. He brushed them back with an easy motion and offered Peisistratus a sheepish smile. He was not skilled in hiding when he felt a certain way, Peisistratus realized with that same strung-tight fondness thrumming in his chest like a bow string pulled taut waiting for release.

“Thank you,” was all Peisistratus had time to say before they were once again swarmed by overeager serving girls. It was a small mercy because he found himself unable to think of what else he might have said.

They were dressed with striking efficiency, and guided back down the long, narrow hall towards the great hall. The chattering of dinner guests met them before the light from fire and torches. A feast stretched across well-adorned tables, a show of limited wealth which Diocles nonetheless managed to make look impressive.

Rather than the feast itself, Peisistratus paid more attention to the way Telemachus’ eyes raked the table tops with awe. To impress a prince from the land of rocks and goats, perhaps this was enough. The thought was warm and nestled itself somewhere in Peisistratus’ chest. He had never been so graciously welcomed into another king’s halls, either, with hospitality befitting a son of Zeus. Telemachus’ wonder stirred some of his own, though he suspected he did not feel it half as strongly as his companion.

Being barred by custom from questioning them before they had eaten their fill, Diocles and his advisors spoke among themselves. Telemachus, left to his own devices with only his charioteer as company, excitedly heaped his plate full of food.

“You know,” he spoke again, allowing wine to be poured into his decorated, ivory cup. “I was under the impression that riding in a chariot was an easier way to travel. I believe I would be less sore now had I walked from Pylos to Phera.”

Peisistratus laughed, almost inhaling an olive. “You wouldn’t have arrived yet had you walked.” He countered easily, though Telemachus was more than likely right in his assessment of soreness. Charioteering was, in all reality, much more about the appearance of wealth than it was about practicality.

“Hm,” Telemachus seemed to take this into consideration while he sipped his wine. It was ruddy and strong, only diluted enough that it wouldn’t be seen as uncivilized to drink. It was probably the best thing Diocles had in his stores.

“Finishing our ride to Sparta will be no easier. It is a land of caves and valleys there; the terrain is littered with loose rocks.” Peisistratus had never traveled so far before in his life. He had heard that caves were plentiful around the shining Spartan city, but knew little else of what it was like there. He only spoke to antagonize Telemachus, perhaps to encourage him to say more.

He earned a quirked eyebrow and a piercing, glancing gaze from his companion. But, before he could respond in earnest, Diocles spoke. “Visiting King Menelaus are you, young lords?”

“Yes, sir, we are.” Peisistratus spoke first, not out of a desire to be recognized, but because something in him was sure that Telemachus would prefer it. “Telemachus is hoping to find news of his father, who fought at Troy.”

Peisistratus remembered the expression Telemachus had made when he called him son of Odysseus. It had been stony and distant, completely dissimilar to the way Telemachus looked at him ordinarily. If Telemachus wanted to be introduced by his father’s name—and Peisistratus doubted that he did—he could do it himself.

“Ah, I have no news of that damned war. Death took my two sons, my only heirs, on the fields of Troy.” Peisistratus had still been young when news of the fate of Crethon and Orsilochus had reached their homeland. His mother had fallen into a silence which filled the halls at Pylos. She had not known the twins hailing from Phera so well, but it had reawakened the fear for her own children which had grown easier to manage in the years since their departure. Antilochus had joined them, enfolded in his own doom at the gates of Ilium, before another year could pass.

“I am sorry, lord, for your loss.” Telemachus spoke for the first time, then. His words were gentle and compassionate.

“Sailing on those black ships brought death and disaster to more families than just mine. A father without his sons is pitiful, but he is his own man in the end. To have lost a father,” Diocles shook his head, a frown etching itself into his worn features. “Though I am unable to help you, I pray the gods bring you success in your search for answers.”

“Thank you,” Telemachus inclined his head respectfully. Serving girls came with more wine and, though there was food yet to be eaten, no one touched it.

“You should speak with Menelaus, while you are a guest in his home, Peisistratus,” Diocles spoke again, suddenly. His voice was brittle with old age. “I would sooner see my kingdom turned over to you or one of your dutiful brothers than subsumed as part of the Atreides’ sprawling sphere of influence. King Menelaus would surely see the benefit in gifting the son’s of Nestor with such a gem of Messenia.”

Peisistratus stared in quiet shock before remembering himself. With the comportment of a prince, he humbly bowed his head. “I would be honored to speak in your place, Lord Diocles, if you wish.”

The offer brought about a ringing in Peisistratus’ ears. It was a grand gesture of generosity, even if Diocles himself had no power to grant it. Should Peisistratus inherit the throne of Phera after his passing, he would still be a king subservient to the Atreides, but he would be a king nonetheless. He tempered his ambition, and boyish hopes. If Diocles truly offered such a boon, he would have to offer it to the rest of Peisistratus’ brothers as well. It would have to be some clever trick of fate for the opportunity to truly fall to him.

“It would please me greatly.” Diocles affirmed.

After dinner, Peisistratus and Telemachus were led to where they would sleep for the night. The palace sat on the edge of a cliff overlooking waves crashing against rock and the room Telemachus and Peisistratus shared was walled only by columns leading onto a balcony on the side facing the sea. The smell of sea spray filled the room and clung to the linens.

“I cannot sleep.” Telemachus said before they had even had the opportunity to try. They had only just been left on their own, the first moments of genuine solitude since their arrival at Phera. But he sounded so sure of himself that Peisistratus did not think to challenge him.

“Then we won’t sleep yet.” He answered with a small shrug, walking out toward the balcony. The sea stretched impossibly far from that point, onwards till the edges of the world. “There is a small beach not far from here.” Peisistratus suggested. Sneaking down from the balcony would be no trouble at all. The stones on the exterior of the palace had been worn smooth from years of withstanding the whipping wind, but the ground was not so far below them that they could not jump down and pull themselves back up again.

“Have you spent much time here?” Telemachus came to stand beside him, then. He rested his weight against the parapet. It was clear from the way he leaned that the soreness had not yet stopped bothering him.

“Some.” Peisistratus said. He could not name anyone with whom it was easier to talk, aside from Polycaste. “My mother would bring us when she came to discuss politics with Diocles, while my father was still away at Troy. We came with a small army of nurses, and even they could not contain us for long. Polycaste and I used to play games in the halls, and sneak away to the beach.”

“You are close with your sister.” Telemachus said, looking out at the sea rather than at Peisistratus. To be without his gaze was something tangible, like a cool breeze reminding a man he is bare.

“Yes,” Peisistratus remembered that, even now, his father and mother were putting together her bride price. What would Telemachus say when confronted with it? Should Peisistratus have warned him it was coming? Should he have counseled him to say no? Why should the Ithacan prince listen to him?

“I often wish I had siblings, but my family’s line is that of only sons.”

Peisistratus tried to think of how to explain the curses and blessings that came with having siblings, but his tongue fell short. He did not think he could explain the way it felt to be known by someone as well as he and his sister knew one another, and he could not explain the way he resented his older brothers without sounding bitter. “I have siblings to spare, if you would like one.” He said instead.

Telemachus chuckled. It was a pleasant sound, starting somewhere deep in his chest. “I would like to see the beach, if you’ll show me.”

Peisistratus would. He helped Telemachus down from the balcony, careful of the way he grimaced when expected to lift his legs too high. Past heroes shaped by stars shone down on them, and the moon’s full bodied light kept their path clear. The hill they climbed down was steep, but Peisistratus guided Telemachus between briar patches and familiar worn stones which he knew were too loose to be stepped on. At times Telemachus appeared about to lose his footing, and Peisistratus offered him a hand.

The beach’s white sand was dull with the night’s darkness. Beyond it the sea appeared like a calm, impossibly dark thing. Waves rolled gently onto the shore, but beyond them nothing seemed to move.

“Do you swim?” Telemachus’ words cut through the silent night air.

Peisistratus scoffed. “I am descended from kings born of Poseidon. Yes, I swim.”

He was surprised by the expression he saw on Telemachus’ face, then. It was soft and amused and a little exasperated. It was sweeter than the honeyed wine they’d shared at dinner, and even quicker to leave Peisistratus feeling drunk. His eyes looked like dark saucers in the low light. “Then come.”

Telemachus pulled off his tunic and ran for the dark, cold water. Peisistratus followed his example after recovering from observing the sharp lines of Telemachus’ body racing towards the surf. They splashed in the water then like children, Telemachus diving eagerly into the cold water to avoid water pushed his way. Peisistratus had not expected for something to grapple with his knees under the water, dragging him below as well. When they surfaced again they were breathless and wracked with giddy laughter.

As the moon shifted slowly across the sky, they relaxed and became numb to the cold water until it was the night air which left them feeling stripped raw. Peisistratus floated lazily on his back, hand making smooth motions underneath the surface of the water, as Telemachus stood and stared out toward the horizon.

“My father is out there somewhere.”

There had been nothing but silence between them for some time now. Peisistratus quickly righted himself, so that he was standing near Telemachus instead of floating. He had not expected such a confession. They had barely spoken about his father.

He said the only thing he could think of: “Then we will find him.”

He meant it as fiercely as he had meant anything before in his life. Odysseus had been gone for a decade since the Trojan War. The odds were good that he had died in some foreign land, or drowned after a shipwreck too far from civilization to be reported. And yet. If Telemachus believed he was alive, and wished to find him, Peisistratus would do everything in his power to aid him.

He was met with only silence, and then a grin.

It was as if all the drowsiness which had overcome them was gone. Still grinning, Telemachus bounded for Peisistratus and tackled him under the waves. They grappled there, under the water, until their lungs screamed for air. Peisistratus started to swim for the shore, only to feel a tug at his ankle. With huffs of breathless laughter, Telemachus pulled him back.

Peisistratus had been raised on stories about fate. He had heard of heroes pulled toward their own doom, even as they fought against it with every breath. He had heard of men granted brilliance or strength by the gods in order to overcome some obstacle fated to fall before them. His experience, then, with fate was not so grand, but he had never felt something more certain to be the workings of the Moirai then when his lips met with Telemachus’.

Whether he had closed the distance between them or Telemachus had was beyond him as they pressed closer. Strong hands held his arms, then wrapped around him and pulled him closer still. Peisistratus’ hands were preoccupied with burying themselves in the shining curls he had wanted to touch for nearly a day now. Their bare skin was warm against one anothers and, as they pulled away to catch their breath, Peisistratus felt a warm bead of desire growing in the pit of his stomach.

He let his eyes meet Telemachus’ cautiously, afraid that he might have imagined all the stolen glances and compliments. The fear was a savage beast inside him, but it was quieted the moment their eyes met. Telemachus’ warm brown eyes were soft, still glazed over as if he were dazed by the sudden passion, but his expression was so laden with desire and affection that Peisistratus felt his knees weaken.

They were desperate with their touches at first, on the beach, drinking in each other like parched men. The passion which overtook them didn’t account for tenderness or patience. And then, when they returned to their room, their senses returned to them too. Their touches lingered and, even in the darkness, Peisistratus sought to memorize every line of Telemachus’ muscles, the way he moved when lost in pleasure, and the sounds he made.

Come morning, neither one of them was particularly well rested. For his part, Telemachus was perhaps more sore than he had been the night before. When servants were sent to rouse them, Telemachus hid his face in the linens which smelled of sea-spray and coriander and almond oil.

“Tell your lord that we will rest one more day before our departure.” Peisistratus spoke more into his pillow than to the servants, still half asleep. Sparta would wait for them.

The young prince had been uncertain about how best to act, whether to draw out his time away with Telemachus or rush back to Pylos in hopes of finding an ill-prepared bride price, but now the weight of certainty rested soundly in his chest. He would make these days last, however he could, for as long as he could.

#telestratus #peisistratus of pylos #peisistratus/telemachus #pisistratus #pisistratus of pylos #pisistratus/telemachus #telemachus #the odyssey #fanfic #my writing #bbyhr #braved by your heart's resolve

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dearestaeneas · 2 years ago

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WIP Wednesday (on a Thursday!!)

my beloved @figsandphiltatos tagged my main in this and i think it’s such a fun idea!! check out their stuff, they’re currently working on a retelling of the Telemachy from Peisistratus’ perspective!!! and it’s so good!!!!! go read their work!!!!!<333333

i haven’t worked on much over the holidays, but i did spend the majority of nanowrimo working on the same piece! i’m almost scared to finish hh so sometimes i fear i’ve been dragging it out to avoid the inevitable (but also, i’m still having fun, DAMMIT. who would complain since i’m still using it to build characterizations and relationships? it’s GOOD. i’m having FUN.)

here’s one of the more recent updates of hh!<3 i was on the fence about introducing Lux (because spoilers?), but i just...fell in love with him immediately. introducing him alone is why i’m also deciding that maybe i’m not ready to start the process of finishing abc yet!

tagging @wikipedie @coffee-laytte-two and @courtjester69420 (although, no pressure!!!!)

happy last out of touch thursday of the year!

The Old God groaned. Todd rarely stayed Backstage without Branwen present, but he’d insisted she go ahead without him. It pained both him and the Old God to see her so distressed, and her lack of resistance was in itself a cause for concern. Todd stepped forward and held the Old God by their shoulders.

“Mmmrgh.” Tell me.

“I wasn’t lying,” the Old God protested. “Ardan being here is a good thing, and he does adore that girl. Her and Celeste, and you. There’s nothing any of you need me to say about it.”

The world melted away. Grays of all shades dripped from the iron wrought furniture and the cafe’s front. The black of the cobble stone itself seemed to be receding away from the pair, being replaced with soft browns and reds, before disappearing altogether. The Old God stood facing Todd as trees seemed to spring from nowhere and grow up thousands of feet to scratch the sky. The Old God squinted against the deep greens and browns of the forest, as if a light had been shined directly into their eyes. In the distance the sound of waves lapping a beach roared.

Where Todd had stood was a short whose skin was the same light brown as Ardan’s. Her eyes and hair were the same shade of black, and her canines were far too sharp when she smiled joylessly.

“Where are we?”

“If you don’t want to talk to me that’s fine,” she said, letting go of the deity and making a show of brushing her hands off on her trousers. “I know someone who will.” With this, she turned and began off toward the waves.

Although the Old God was a monochrome idol in this place, they felt a color they didn’t have drain from their face. “Todd, not them!”

She spun around to face them. “Why? You know, he would really be an excellent ally to have! Sure, he couldn’t care less about the New Gods, but he loves Branwen. Do you really think he’d let anyone do anything that could hurt his little golden girl?” Todd’s voice dripped with a dare to be challenged. “I think he’d want to know if something was happening, since he can’t afford to keep tabs on her anymore, don’t you think?”

The Old God seethed. “Todd!”

She resumed her purposeful march to the beach, the Old God trailing behind her. They stopped right at the treeline, watching as Todd held her arms out as she walked toward the man.

He stood on a flat, gray outcropping at the beach’s edge, the water lapping up onto the rock to darken its corners. He looked over his shoulder toward the forest at the sound of Todd’s steps crunching on the sand. Upon seeing her, his face brightened, a feat which should have been impossible as the god cast a bright glow on everything around him. “My darling!” He shouted, voice booming over the waves. The Old God shuddered at the sound and concealed themselves behind a particularly thick tree.

“Lux!” Todd squealed as he lifted her into the air after closing the distance between them with imperceptible speed. He finally set her back down and held her face in his strong hands. She squinted slightly and he quickly released her apologetically, the gold of his skin having reflected directly into her eyes.

“What are you doing here, my dear?”

“I don’t want any false pretense,” Todd began. “I’m sorry this wasn’t a casual visit.”

Lux waved a hand dismissively. “There will always be time for that later.”

“I’m worried about Branwen.”

Lux’s face darkened and the sun that beat down on the beach seemed to dim. “Did that bastard hurt her? Where are they?” With this they turned from Todd to study the treeline. “They’re here, aren’t they?”

Todd reached out for his hand and turned his attention back to her. “They haven’t done anything,” she promised. “Really. But I need to talk to someone who’s always had her best interests at heart.”

The Old God strained to hear the continuation of the conversation, despite the pounding in their chest after Lux’s call. Strange, they thought in a moment of detachment. I don’t even have a heart…I don’t think.

“I try to. As much as I can,” Lux said, words laced with deep anger. “They have made it nearly impossible.”

“Lux,” Todd gripped his hand tighter. “Listen. I know you can’t watch over her like you used to because of…”

“The parasite? Todd, we’re not supposed to feed off mortals like that! What do they call her, an avatar? There’s not a single god who didn’t know she was my favorite, and they still got to feed off all that belief. I don’t even know what the Nameless One calls themselves these days, but they shut all of us out,” he said seriously. “I don’t care about the others, Todd. She was my favorite.” The sky above the beach continued to darken.

She exhaled. Really, these gods and their tempers. She wondered if she was ever this petty with her siblings. “Lux.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, the sky lightening slightly. “You don’t care.”

He sighed. “What do you need?”

“You can’t see her, but you can see Celeste, right?”

The sky became completely clear, the sun beating down mercilessly. Lux brightened accordingly. “Of course! You know, I like her so much more than the last one. I’m sad to hear she’s having trouble adjusting to immortality, we need more immortals like her. But, of course, you know I like the sunny ones.”

“And…Ardan? The er, other one the Nameless One’s claimed for themselves.”

“Ah,” Lux said quietly. “Yes, I know him. Branwen likes him. That’s good.”

“Tell me why.”

“He’s in your blindspot, darling,” Lux said, resting a hand on Todd’s head. “Walk with me.” He offered an arm out to her, which she readily accepted, and the pair walked along the water’s edge.

The Old God peered out from behind their tree to follow Todd and Lux’s stroll further and further away from them. They cursed the god quietly, knowing he was well aware of where the Old God hid, despite well-acted ignorance. They watched as Todd stopped in her tracks to face Lux, his own face wearing a self-assured smile to counter her own look of horror. She stared back into the treeline, eyes locking directly with the Old God. Shit. Shitshitshitshitshit.

Todd held Lux’s forearm gratefully, her dark eyes locking with his yellow ones. “I can fix this,” she said.

“Yes,” he agreed. “You can. Now get that monster out of my domain.”

She hugged him close and his arms warmed her skin. “Next time will be one of those casual visits,” he said. She broke away and nodded before starting back toward the trees.

“And Todd?” He called behind her.

She turned. “What?”

Lux stepped forward slightly. “I want you to bring her with you when you come. Celeste too.”

Todd smiled then. “Of course.”

#looooong boy #v long boy #abc #TODD CONFIRMED HE/SHE BABEY!!!!!!!#fantasy #original fiction #fiction #also i'ma tag stevie's stuff so their fic is in those tags twice. don't mind me #odyssey #telemachus #peisistratus of pylos #penelope #odysseus #wip wednesday #on a thursday!

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restlesskeychains · 4 days ago

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Now that we have Peisistratus, Nausicaä, and Telemachus…

How about Polycaste?????,, 💥💥

Here she is! :D

#now the group is fully formed #idk anything about polycaste she’s apperantly peisistratuses sister and she washes telemachus i think when he comes to pylos #kinda regret the beads on her neck but it’s okay we vibe with them #greek mythology #homers odyssey #the odyssey #my art #my doodles #polycaste #peisistratus

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phillygrilly · 3 months ago

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Hey guys..

Drops Peisistratus/Pisistratus art and runs..

#pisistratus #peisistratus #PRETTY PRETTY PRETTY BADDIE PRINCE OF PYLOS!!#Him and telemachus are married guys its canon/j #the odyssey #odyssey

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katerinaaqu · 2 months ago

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Did Odysseus have horses or not? (An Iliad and Odyssey Analysis)

This little thing came from a post made by @wolfythewitch and my response in regards to some Cephallenian horses that can still be found to Kephallonia to this day: see here So here is a more extensive analysis on the question of horses and Ithaca or the kingdom of the Cephallenians in general

So as we know from antiquity, horses are known to be a sign of nobility, proof of status and of course a valuable animal for work such as farming or war. Horses play a very important role in the homeric poems with of course the most infamous example of all the Trojan Horse that was the symbol of Troy and became its destruction. Many heroes have had the pseudonym "tamer of horses" including Diomedes and Hector.

It seems also that horses are linked most to some of the richest and most powerful kingdoms are shown to have beautiful or good horses. For example except for Troy that as also linked to god Poseidon and thus to the sumbol of Horse, we also see Argos be famous for the horses (and king Diomedes earning his name from it) or even Sparta (Menelaus providing horses to Telemachus which are praised) and Pylos when Nestor also provides Telemachus and Peisistratus with horses.

But what about Ithaca?

As mentioned above and as others mentioned before me, it seems that Ithaca, the tiny rugged place Odysseus speaks about does not seem to have terrains that are capable of hosting horses like wide plains or wide and smooth roads where horses can trot freely or graze. The existence of animals for work as well seems to be touched in post-homeric sources such as Hyginus Fabulae where we see the infamous story of Odysseus pretending madness. He ties to his plow a donkey and a cow instead. Both of the animals are more frequent for plowing fields or carrying loads especially donkeys and mules that are still famous in Greece and greek islands and they are known for being capable of marching across the wild terrains and uphill paths.

Ironically, or not so much, Ithaca seems to have a lack of horses according to Telemachus himself for when Menelaus offers him parting gifts, including horses, Telemachus replies to him thus:

However the horses I shall not take with me to Ithaca but I shall leave them to you, with your permission (lit: to your glory): for you are a king of wide fields, rich in clove and galingale and plenty of wheat that is dicocum and white. However in Ithaca there are neither wide roads nor grassy meadows; place that is fit for goats to walk and graze on rather than horses. For no island that leans in the salt (here: sea) is fit for riding and grazing horses: Ithaca least of all.

(Translation by me)

So here Telemachus seems to imply that not only most of silands have unfriendly terrain for horses but also that Ithaca is "least of all". Now there are a couple of things here that are toned out:

Ithaca is described as a ragged place by Odysseus as well when he speaks on his homeland to the Phaeaces and even nowadays it is indeed true that Ithaca has more mountain plains than wide fields given how small the island is as well and in general Greece is over 80% mountains anyways.

Homer makes Telemachus speak on how Ithaca is the "least of all" suitable for horses. Probably that is a small hyperbole. For starters maybe one could speak on "least of all" in the islands of the Ionian sea instead, which Telemachus probably is familiar with because islands in the Aegean sea are much dryer and uphill than the islands on the Ionian sea so it is probably a hyperbole used by Homer to show how unsuitable Ithaca is for riding horses or comparing them to islands of the Ionian sea instead (because see for example an image of Folegandros which has even less greenery for horses to feed on:

However the image that Ithaca is probably boarderline hostile for horses and riding is also linked to the fact on how Ithaca is often perceived as a land rich in certain products such as olives or fruit trees (due to the mild climate) but a generally poorer island and kingdom compared to others like Mycenae, Argos or Sparta. When Telemachus visits Sparta is is mesmerized by her beauty and richness.

Even if we do have examples in Ithaca that show that Ithaca is not a weak or penniless kingdom (Penelope sits on a chair with ivory which is an exotic material very hard to find or Odysseus leaves for war wearing a crimson woolen mantle that is decorated with a golden brooch. Both gold and the color crimson were extremely valuable. For example crimson pigmentation is found only at the shells that come from the east so it would require good economy to obtain) Ithaca is by general idea a poorer and less powerful kingdom than the rest (Odysseus is one of the kings that brings the least amount of ships with him at the number of 12 and around 603 men in total including himself)

The absense of horses or the hint that Ithaca does not breed horses at all, according to some readings of the passage, is also linked to the lack of powerful status for the kingdom. The kingdom itself is not one of the great powerful kingdoms of Greece like his peers from Mycenae or Argos and the fact that a status symbol like Horses is absent is rather interesting way to show that. In fact Ithaca seems to gain fame by its people rather than its political power.

(See how Odysseus calls the island κουροτρόφο aka "nurturer of men". Odysseus implies that the importance of his kingdom is not to the status symbols but to its people and their braveness)

But can we really talk on complete absence of horses in Odysseus's life?

Cephallonia's Semi-wild Horses:

As I mentioned to the post I reblogged under @wolfythewitch post we do seem to have a breed of horses to the area. The horses are being left to roam about according to an ancient custom because Cephallonia has no much space to keep them so the farmers do tame them but leave them roam free to the plains and now they are part of the national park of Aenus mountain:

These horses have been adapted to ride perfectly well to the rough rocky terrains of the mountain. Now of course the breed was probably imported from the mainland (most likely from Pindos mountains). Cephallonia has also been suggested as the location of the homeric Ithaca (and the giver of name of his kingdom) due to the fact that it deprives from homeric description that Cephallonia was "the most far western island" or, as I would probably be willing to believe, that maybe the land of modern Ithaca and Cephallonia were connected by land at that time (take that hypothesis with a grain of salt but I think it is highly possible) other locations suggested were even Lefkas for they discovered Mycenaean remains there

It is of course unclear when these horses enter the terrain. Itis possible that the horses arrive way after the bronze age that Odysseus ellegedly lived or even after Homer's time even, if Homer doesn't mention them or mentions that horses are not possible to grow in Ithaca.

It could also be, though, that homer completely dispatches horses from Ithaca to that degree again to point out the difference of status between Ithaca and Sparta. And, another totally wild guess, is also interesting how the animal symbol of Poseidon is absent from the island of Ithaca to the poem that speaks about the hubris of Odysseus against Poseidon and the god's wrath against him! Food for thought! XD

No horses in Ithaca doesn't necessarily mean Cephallinians had no horses at all:

Another thing that people often forget is that Odysseus was not king of Ithaca only. The kingdom of Cephallenians was a kingdom that spread over several islands AND part of the mainland where modern day Aitoloakarnania is:

The kingdom is not limited to the island of Ithaca only. Acarnania is also a wide area. Horses can possibly be bred there and also be providing the islands if needed. It is interesting because Odysseus is not only in posession of a chariot in the Iliad but he also seems perfectly capable of riding horses. In the Iliad for example both he and Diomedes steal the Thracian Horses in rhapsody 10:

So she spoke and he (Diomedes) recognized the goddess's voice and swiftly jumped on the horses: Odysseus smote them with his bow and they trotted towards the fast ships of the Achaeans

(Translation by me)

Interestingly Homer uses the 3rd singular of the verb: ἐπεβήσετο (he rode) but then proceeds using the 3rd plural ἐπέτοντο (they flew/rode away). So what could it be? Could it be perhaps that Odysseus jumped on the horse behind Diomedes and smote it with his bow to start trotting away? In that case we could speak indeed on the fact that clearly Diomedes was a better rider than Odysseus given that he is more familiar with horses. However if both of them ride away that means that Odysseus is not completely oblivious of horses he just doesn't seem to be so capable with them indeed. In fact the first is rather confirmed at the passage that follows soon after:

Then Odysseus beloved to Zeus restrained the quick horses, while the son of Tydeus jumped on the ground, placing the bloody spoils to the hands of Odysseus and once more he rode the horses; hitting them with a whip and nothing stopped them from flying to the hollow ships, as they so much wished to be.

(Translation by me)

So in this scene Diomedes seems to be the protagonist, being more knowledgable on horses (he is the one who rides first and trots) while Odysseus plays a more auxiliary role (steeds and holds the horses or holds the spoils in hand) but he doesnt seem completely oblivious to the exietence or treatment of horses. He both knows how to restrain and steer them but he is also in posession of a chariot with which he fights in the Iliad and covers the retreat of Diomedes and later that same chariot comes to pick him up from the battle (see rhapsody 11).

Conclusions:

So Homer seems to be sticking to the notion that horses are not widedly used in Ithaca or the rest of the kingdom due to its rough terrain. Not only does Telemachus speak of it but we also see the image in Iliad where Odysseus is clearly not as capable rider as Diomedes given how while they trot away. Of course needs to be noted how the horses are often depicted unbriddled and without a saddle in the artwork so it is also interesting to think that Odysseus wouldn't be able to ride without equipment while Diomedes who is more familiar with horses he has no problem.

Odysseus seems to stick more to chariots than horse riding which also indicates that he is not familiar with horse riding to that extent or that he is not particularly confident in it, however he seems capable of doing it.

The existence of the horse breed in Cephallonia as well as the fact that the kingdom also involves the mainland could indicate that horses were not unknown to the Cephallenians just not widedly used. Odysseus speaks many times on horses and their beauty and strength so he is familiar with them and he can judge (bet he also learnt a bunch from his fellow kings like Diomedes and the idea of Diomedes showing Odysseus even more stuff about horses sounds a cute image doesn't it!?) but from the incidents such as the one from the Iliad, suggest that he is not confident rider.

His knowledge seems less extensive compared to his knowledge on other stuff such as sheep and goats (he praises the flock of Polyphemus for example, elemet that I also used to my retelling/one-shot fic "Escape from Cyclops Island: Hubris") or stars and navigation so indeed even if he does have knowledge on riding or chariots he is not very confident in it.

So I tend to be somewhere in the middle; I don't believe that the Cephallinians had no horses at all or that they had no idea on horses (Telemachus himself has some knowledge after all since he mentions immediately to Menelaus that his gift would be unsuitable for his land) it is just that if they can host horses it is just some very sturdy and adaptable ones like the ones used at mountain passages and even those were not widedly used. They would probably have more mules or donkeys for transportation like it happens to mountain terrains and use more cattle as farming animals. The use of horses must have been very scarce to the point of providing them general knowledge but not as widedly used as in other places

But what do you guys think? Let me know!

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