Song of Princes (Homeric Chronicles #1) (35 page)

Only a chosen few were ever allowed entry into royal bed chamber. Odysseus himself had sketched out the exact placement of the walls, the single door and inner sanctuary. He’d kept the secrets of the room closely guarded, sharing only the most intimate details with his new bride and queen, Penelope. They never spoke of it to anyone. It was a sacred room Odysseus wanted only for himself and his bride. Outside the room, they were the reigning couple of Ithaka. But within their chamber, Odysseus could be simply a man who loved his gentle and elegant wife. None but Eurycleia and Penelope’s maid, Eurýnomê, had ever seen the interior. Not even Anticlea.

Odysseus had laid the room out on the lower floor so that Penelope could see the ocean from her windows and catch the breeze when it favored this side of their island.  The outer walls of their room were laid close to the hillside for protection and privacy. He planted masses of wine colored roses below the windows. It was the queen of flowers and grew hardily in the hot summers of Ithaka. Odysseus favored the roses because they added additional security. This exquisite variety, born from a lifeless nymph, had thorns the size of a fingertip and could rip exposed flesh to shreds.

He’d built the heavy double entry doors himself. He had hewed and smoothed the wood to his liking and hammered out a pair of matching olive trees in brilliant bronze to adorn each door. Simple round handles allowed entry from the outside, but Odysseus had placed three heavy iron latches to secure the door from the interior. Once it was locked from the inside, no one could enter. An intruder would have to tear off the entire roof to drop in from the sky.

Completing their sacred space was a bed hand-made by the king in secret. It dominated the center of the chamber. What appeared as a simple design contained a secret known only to the king and queen. Three of the four posts of the bed frame were ordinary beams hewn from imported cedar trees. It was the fourth post which contained the secret. Both husband and wife swore never to reveal what truth the final anchored post held.

Penelope had been confused when one of her husband’s messengers arrived sweating and winded in the courtyard. He was speaking in spurts and fits about ships and Sparta. Nothing made sense. But something had definitely struck Eurycleia, because no sooner had the man opened his mouth, than she grabbed Penelope’s arm rushing her into her bed chamber with strict orders to shut the bolts, until she herself returned.

She walked to her window overlooking the bay and saw the ships anchoring there.
What do they want? What could Sparta want with Ithaka?
Penelope looked around her room, silently grateful her husband had taken such pains to make sure she would always feel safe here. In the darkest corner of their room, Penelope had erected an altar for Athena with Odysseus’ help. It was smaller than the household shrine in the center of the main courtyard. This one was for their private thoughts and thanks. Odysseus believed that Athena would always protect them and it had sometimes, she noted privately, made him brash and overly daring. In public, she would never shed a tear. But in this sanctuary, in front of their Athena, she felt free to shed as many as she needed for comfort.  She knelt before Athena in silence and waited. A rapid pounding drew her away from the shrine. Through the solid timbers she heard her maid pleading urgently, “Open up, my lady. It’s me.”

Penelope quickly unbolted each iron slide and Eurycleia rushed in followed by two strange guards with swords drawn. “I’m sorry, my lady, but there is no other way.” The old woman walked to the cradle and picked up the new born prince swaddling cloth and all. Without a word of explanation, she hurried out shouting over her shoulder, “Lock the door!”

The queen bolted towards her maid, but the guards roughly blocked her way. “Wait! Eurycleia! Where are you taking Telemachus?!” she screamed as the guards pulled the heavy doors shut. She slid the iron latches back into place. Penelope leaned against the door, confusion and fear overwhelmed her and she sank to the floor in tears. She recognized the Spartan armor and red capes of Menelaus. Why would her cousin’s husband come here? She had obeyed Eurycleia, a second mother to her, and now she regretted it. What was happening? Odysseus urgently summoned to the Oracle. Foreign ships in the harbor, and if she wasn’t mistaken, the distinctive sail of the great king Agamemnon accompanied his brother. But what had all this to do with her son?

There was nothing to do now but continue praying to Athena. Penelope sat on the edge of her bed waiting for someone to return her son and explain what was happening. Her stomach grumbled. She had missed the midday meal. Her bustling household now hushed to mere whispers. The very air seemed to stop moving. Worry exhausted her and she fell into a deep sleep.

FROM HIGH ABOVE
in the cloud kingdom of Olympus, Athena looked down on this daughter of Ikarus, wife to Odysseus, her beloved patron. Athena was furious that Paris had made the choice he did, but angrier still that Aphrodite had cheated her way to victory. She was annoyed that a mortal, a mere shepherd at that, regardless of his bloodline, had been chosen by Zeus to decide who among her, Hera or Aphrodite was the most fair. His impulsive decision and Aphrodite’s desire for complete adoration had set a course for a great battle. The prospect of war had drawn the attention of the other Olympians who delighted in the prospect of setting their patrons against each other. Athena decided to aide Odysseus whenever possible, keeping a watchful eye on Penelope as well. She would comfort the queen with peaceful bouts of long sleep when needed, to protect her from the pain and grief to come.

FROM THE BOW
of his anchored ship, Menelaus could see the king of Ithaka. He hit the elbow of Thalpius and pointed to the shore. “What is he doing? Look. There. Is that not Odysseus?” Menelaus asked incredulously.

Thalpius, mouth agape, asked, “Is he plowing the beach?”

“What an idiot.” Menelaus said flatly.

“The gods must have stirred his mind to madness,” Thalpius concurred. A small group of curious rowers began crowding around Menelaus to watch the lunacy on the beach. Menelaus grabbed Thalpius by the forearm. “Look! Palamedes is coming. What’s that in his arms?”

“It looks like a bundle of cloth.”

“He’s laying it on the ground in front of Odysseus’ plough. What in Hades is he up to?” All the spectators were riveted to the scene. They all watched intently as Palamedes walked clear of Odysseus’ next pass with the plough.

“Whatever it is, Odysseus is going to turn it under the sand with his next row,” Thalpius said.

Menelaus held his breath and then shouted, “He stopped! By the balls of Zeus! He’s stopped the oxen!”

“Why is he just standing there?” Thalpius asked, confusion wrinkling his brow. The onlookers murmured amongst themselves.

“Gods! I wish I could hear what they are saying!” Menelaus said.

ODYSSEUS HADN’T ANTICIPATED
this maneuver. He’d heard the thin cries of a newborn baby coming from the gift Palamedes ceremoniously placed in front of him. He’d recognized the purple trim on the weaving and knew instantly it was his son, Telemachus. So, Agamemnon was putting him through a test of his own. The choices were plain enough to Odysseus. He could kill his son and remain with Penelope, losing everything he held most dear forever, or he could reveal his sanity, save his son, and save his family only to lose them for twenty years.

He pulled the seed bag off his shoulder and let it sag to the ground spilling the precious salt. He dropped the reigns of the oxen, their hooves sinking into the soft sand. The heavy beasts snorted and threw up their noses to sniff the tangy sea breeze in unison still being yoked together. Slowly, Odysseus approached to the swaddled bundle and gently scooped it up in his arms. With a hand calloused by war and fighting, he gently lifted a corner of the blanket. His new son’s face squinted in the bright light. The babe wailed loudly. Odysseus left the salt bag, the oxen, the plough and his hopes of avoiding war on the shore behind him.

As the young king walked up the beach, cradling the baby with one strong arm, he locked eyes with Palamedes, who stood with arms crossed over his chest in smug satisfaction. When Odysseus was shoulder to shoulder with him, he stopped and turned to him. “You have cost me my wife and my son. Watch yourself, my friend. I might be gone for years, but you will not ever be coming back. By Athena, I will make sure of that.”

Palamedes saw the iron truth in Odysseus’ eyes and was glad for once that Agamemnon was his king.

PENELOPE AWAKENED TO
familiar footsteps in the hall. She hurried to unbolt the door. There stood Odysseus with Telemachus cradled securely in the crook of his arm, sleeping peacefully with his little fingers in his mouth. Nothing could have pleased her more.  She stood on tip toes to kiss his sweating temple and gently took the child from his arms and placed him in his proper bed.

Odysseus watched his wife’s graceful white arms as she laid their son to bed. He could make out the line of her hips through her chiton, as she bent to kiss the child on his forehead, her golden hair spilling to one side. He had failed Penelope. And now, he must tell her everything. Odysseus opened his arms to her. “Penelope, come sit by me.”

“What is happening? How did you get Telemachus? Eurycleia took him and told me to lock the doors. I feared you had been given some direction from the oracle to…to kill our son.”

Odysseus reassured her. “Even if Zeus himself had given me such an order, I would not obey.”

“Why was I locked in our room with only Athena’s company?”

Odysseus sighed deeply. “Penelope…I am leaving for Troy.”

“Troy? Why are you going to Troy? We have no business there, do we?”

“No...and yes. I have business there.”

“Is this why Spartan ships gather in our harbor?

“Yes. I will be joining the fleet with my own men. We sail to Aulis, then for Troy,” Odysseus confirmed.

“Aulis? What will you do in Aulis? Odysseus, it sounds more like a gathering of soldiers than a trading expedition…,” her voice trailed off, as she began to piece together what her husband was trying to tell her. “You have not mentioned a word of trading.”

“We are going to war with Troy.”

Penelope gasped, for even she knew about the futility of war against the mighty Asian kingdom. “The Trojan walls have never been breached. By any enemy.”

“True. That is the account given by Trojans.”

Penelope placed a hand on her husband’s arm. “Tell me, what army has defeated them? Breeched their god protected walls?”

He pointed to his shield hung over the hearth. “I have been in many battles, my beloved. The bronze is well-polished.” He brought her hands up to his lips. “It is time to test it for yet another season.”

Telemachus woke with a gentle whimper that quickly turned to hungry wail. The warrior king stood to pick up his distraught son and laid him in his mother’s arms. Odysseus laughed. “That is a familiar cry. You had better feed him before he runs out of breath.” Penelope opened her chiton and her son’s hungry mouth turned towards her soft flesh and found what his little belly ached for. Odysseus brushed his hand gently along his son’s face.
I will miss his journey to manhood
. It wasn’t long before little Telemachus was again asleep with milky droplets hanging at the corners of his round mouth. Penelope wiped them away with the corner of her gown.

“Why do you have to go, Odysseus?”

“I took the oath before Tyndareus, promising to protect Helen and now I must honor it.”

“Why would you do that? You did not wish my cousin for your bride, naming me your second choice?” A hot tear escaped down her burning cheek.

“I did not take the oath for Helen’s sake. I took it for you.” He tilted her chin to face him. “Did you think your father would hand you over to me so easily? Tyndareus aided me, for aiding him.” He pulled his wife into his arms, smashing the baby between them. “Put him down for a while...”

“Odysseus…” she asked, as he secured all the iron slides on the door. “Why has Helen gone to Troy?”

“That question is without clear answer. Menelaus claims she was kidnapped by Paris a Prince of Troy. There is rumor he won her by his charm and she left willingly. I was told that Helen also took half his treasury.”