Free Odysseus in the Serpent Maze by Robert J. Harris Page A

Mentor said, pointing to the water jar.
    “Where are the oars?” asked Helen.
    “Is it supposed to haaaave oars?” The satyr’s face collapsed in on itself with disappointment.
    “How will we steer it?” Odysseus asked.
    “I’ve paaaatched up the sail,” said Silenus. “The wind can taaaake us where we will.”
    “Not unless you can tell the gods which way the winds should blow,” Mentor said.
    Penelope cocked her head to one side, considering. “Really, we don’t have any choice.”
    “Of course we have a choice,” Helen said firmly. “We can always go back to the pirates.” She turned from them in a swirl of skirts. “They have a proper boat. And they don’t smell like they just climbed out of a dung pile.”
    “Let her go if she wants,” Odysseus said. “We haven’t the time to argue with her.”
    Penelope turned on him. “For a hero you have an awful lot to learn about courage,” she said. “I wouldn’t abandon you to those cut-throats just to save my own life.”
    “My … own …” Odysseus sputtered and then, realising he had no answer to what Penelope had just said, closed his mouth into a thin, firm slash. He walked over to the little boat and put his shoulder to the hull and began to push it towards the water.
    “Wait!” Penelope cried. “The water jar!”
    Silenus galloped to the boat and snugged the krater down next to the mast.
    Mentor waded into the water and started pulling the boat from the water side.
    Soon the little craft was afloat.
    Odysseus called over his shoulder to Penelope. “You two girls, get on board. Now.”
    Helen dug in her heels and shook her head, but Penelope took a firm grip on her arm.
    “Just think how angry those cut-throats will be when they find we’ve escaped, Helen,” she said.
    Helen sighed, torn between pride and good sense.
    “Come on,” Penelope urged. “You know this boat is our best chance of seeing home again.”
    “Yes, that’s what’s so horrible,” Helen said.
    Penelope pushed Helen up into the boat and then she hauled herself in.
    Mentor climbed in after, and Odysseus was next.
    Leaning out over the stern, Odysseus held out a hand to the satyr, who was still standing on the rocky beach. “Come on, Silenus,” he cried. “The tide is carrying us away.”
    The satyr put one hoof into the sea and paled as water surged up his leg. Gritting his teeth, he advanced one step, two, until his entire goat half was under the waves.
    “Come on!” Odysseus shouted again.
    Penelope took up the cry.
    The satyr got as far as the boat and put his hands on the side. He tried to climb in, and the little skiff tilted alarmingly.
    “He’s going to drown us all!” Helen cried.
    “Hush, cousin,” Penelope said. “We’re hardly three feet from shore.”
    At Helen’s cry, Silenus had let go of the boat and fallen back into the water. He rose up out of the waves like some pitiable sea creature, wet strands of long grey hair hanging over his face.
    “Silenus!” Odysseus cried out again. “Hurry!”
    But the goat-man, coughing and spitting up brine, his body trembling in full panic, was already splashing back to the shingle. Once he reached the shore, Silenus turned a grim face to them.
    “Don’t be stupid, Silenus—the pirates will find you,” Odysseus called to him.
    “Don’t worry, maaaanling,” he bleated. “Goats and waaaater just don’t mix.”
    The tide had now carried the boat too far out for the satyr to wade after them—even if he could have summoned up the nerve.
    Odysseus lifted a hand in salute. “I will get a ship and come back for you,” he shouted. “I swear it by the gods.”
    “Never swear by them, maaanling,” came the return. “They taaaake themselves too seriously.”
    And then satyr and island were gone in one long swell of a wave.

CHAPTER 12: SINGERS IN THE MIST
    T HE LITTLE BOAT SHUDDERED with every new wave, but the patches held. The boys managed to raise the linen sail, which was as patched as the