Jerry attempted to refuse. The little guy was hurt. “Is good! Is sweet. Is nice. Eat, traveler, eat.” The loincloth-clad man took one himself, and chewed it with obvious gusto.
Heaven knew how many fly feet had walked over this stuff, but Jerry tried to look on the positive side. If he ended up dead, he’d end up home. The yellow-fruit base was not very nice. Even honey did little to hide that. The stuff was resiny.
“Well, I’ll be dipped in shit.” Cruz grinned, looking at his half-eaten sweetmeat. He sniffed it. “These are hash cookies. No wonder the locals are smiling.”
It all clicked into place. Jerry realized instantly that Odysseus was pulling another trick. “Lotophagi!”
The little aboriginal nodded happily. He pointed at the sweetmeats. “Lotus.” He pointed at the yellow-fruited trees on the hill slope behind the beach. “Lotus bean. Plenty plenty.”
“And the green plants in between them are Cannabis sativa,” said Henri with a nod.
Maybe it was the half a hash cookie in his empty stomach, but Jerry began to giggle. No wonder the locals encouraged the visitors to eat. Two or three of these cookies and you would probably forget your own name, never mind forget that you had a home to return to. It was indeed a magnificent defense. Raiders would eat first, knowing that they’d have plenty of opportunity to take slaves later. It wasn’t poison because the locals ate it too. Only the locals ate quite a lot of it, and were habituated to it. Raiders weren’t.
It could very well turn into a case of the raiders being the victims in the end. And Jerry was willing to bet that Odysseus, cunning Odysseus, hadn’t actually eaten that sweetmeat.
“Hey, Odysseus!” yelled Jerry. “Prince Odysseus. These sweetmeats are great. You have another. In fact, have two. Sergeant. Help him to some.”
Odysseus backed off. “I’d love some. But lotus . . . they give me terrible indigestion. Honestly. You have some more for me. Enjoy.”
Jerry laughed. “Ody, you’re a slimy bastard.” Man, that hash must be strong! “But I’ve read all about you and your whole life. I know what happens in the land of the lotus-eaters. I knew all about the Cyclops. I know about your wife, and Telemachus, and how you survived Circe.”
Odysseus looked startled. “I am in a book? Written, as they do for stores tallies?” It took the Achaean some time to come to terms with this. Then he strutted. “You hear that, Eurylochus? I’m famous!”
“For your bad breath, probably,” muttered the henchman.
“Ha. Jealousy makes you unpleasant. Tell me which of my great adventures you know about, barbarian. Do you know how I slew twenty Thracians, including their King Rhesus?”
“It was only twelve. And Diomedes killed them, while they were asleep. You just ran off with the horses.”
Odysseus gaped. “How . . . ” he asked weakly.
“I told you,” said Jerry scornfully. “I read about your ‘adventures’ when I was a child. But I thought you were a hero, not a louse. It was only when I came across Euripides that it even occurred to me you weren’t the perfect hero.”
Odysseus looked annoyed. Put a hand to his sword. “Who is this ‘Euripides’?”
Jerry shrugged. He was definitely feeling the hash. “You rippa dese you buy me a new pair . . . He’s either long dead—or if we really are in your time, not yet born. You see, we’re from your future. Even our children learn about you and your family.”
There was a silence. Then Odysseus asked: “I went to Hades to consult the blind Theban, Teiresias. He told me that my wife Penelope was being courted by over a hundred suitors. Is this true?”
Sympathy welled up in Jerry. “Yes.”
Odysseus slapped his fist into his hand. “And their servants too?”
“Yes.” Why should that matter?
Odysseus ground his fist into the opposite palm. “I’ve got to get home! Those wastrels are eating MY food. Feasting at MY expense! They’re impoverishing MY kingdom!”
Jerry looked at the man in disgust. “So the fact they’re pulling a train with your wife isn’t important to you?”
The translation spell dealt with this one somehow. Odysseus looked like he was about to explode. Jerry thought he’d finally gone too far. Finally Odysseus almost spat out, “Without paying!?”
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