The Three Lotus Scouts

They are not named. They are sent inland because Odysseus needs to know what kind of land this is, and they are reminded to remember they are guests. They take too long. When Odysseus and three more armed men go after them, they find the three sitting in a clearing among loose-faced locals who barely speak and barely move. One of his warriors lets sand sift through his fingers like rubies. Another tilts his face to the sun. The third dances like a snake in the grass. Men who killed beside him at Troy, who survived a decade because of vigilance, sitting with slack faces and grinning like babies. Odysseus knocks the offered fruit out of an elder’s hand and orders the men dragged back to the ships by their arms. They don’t fight. They don’t reach for more. They are lashed to the benches and the oars are in the water before they can think to plead. By nightfall the island is gone. They come back to themselves slowly: their fists clench against the oar-wood, their jaws set tight, their gaze sharpens. They weep through the night. They are the first time the journey home costs Odysseus something he had to take from his men against their will.