The Girl From Ithaca (2 page)
“It’s newly spun this season, though my young attendants enjoyed pulling it out of shape for you,” Penelope laughed.
I washed quickly and smiled as my sister-in-law tied a leather strap around Odysseus’ waist.
“And this will keep it in place,” she said.
Odysseus scratched his neck. “In place? It hasn’t got a place. It’s like a meal sack.”
Penelope took a step back and inclined her head as she looked at him, her eyes shining. “Yes, I see what you mean. It doesn’t show off that broad chest of yours and it gives the impression of a paunch.” She patted Odysseus’ stomach. “Fortunately, your sister’s attire is much more refined.”
Penelope handed me one of her own robes and nodded at her dressing area. “Try this brooch. It will complement the yellow cloth.”
I slipped behind the screen, pulled off my tunic and Penelope wrapped the smooth robe around me. Finally, she pinned it together with the amber brooch. Trembling, I touched the orange fire of the stone. Mother claimed amber drove away evil spirits and it felt so warm and alive, I almost believed her.
There were hurried footsteps outside, but it was only Euryclea bustling in, out of breath and dragging my young sister with her.
“What are you thinking of?” she cried, on seeing Odysseus’ tunic. She was a slave, Odysseus was her king, but she had once been his nurse and very occasionally the authority of a nurse overrode the power of a king. Her eyes narrowed as she stared him in the face. “I thought you’d grown out of such nonsense! Get dressed properly. You can’t welcome King Menelaus dressed like a drunken swineherd who lives all winter in the pig sty!”
Odysseus held up a hand. “No, no, I’m being serious. Menelaus must go from here believing I’m mad, too mad to join his brother’s army against Troy. This tunic is part of my act. ”
The old nurse glanced at Penelope.
Penelope nodded as she combed my hair. “It’s true, Euryclea. We want Menelaus to think Odysseus has lost his mind. Agamemnon’s been planning this war for years, and now Helen’s kidnap is just the excuse he needs.” She stopped combing and looked at Odysseus. “I don’t want my husband to die because of King Agamemnon’s lust for war and Trojan gold.”
“I’ve no intention of dying for Agamemnon,” Odysseus said. He paused and then smiled at his wife. “And you know what to do if Menelaus wants to see me, I’ll be on the North Beach sowing salt. You can look distressed enough, I think.”
“And so can I,” Euryclea declared. “I’ve spent more than twenty five years watching you grow from a baby to a boy and then to a prince and king. I will weep for you in front of King Menelaus. See how unhappy I am even thinking of such a thing!” She tugged at her greying hair. Real tears glistened in her eyes and slid slowly down her face.
I caught my sister’s eye from the other side of the room and looked away quickly. Poor Euryclea. I knew she loved Odysseus as much as any mother could, but she told Ctimene and myself so often, it was difficult to hide our amusement when she talked about his cleverness or his bravery or some other wonderful ability that always outshone our own accomplishments.
When I dared to look up, Odysseus had his arm round Euryclea and was leading her to the door. “I don’t want you upsetting yourself like that,” he said, in a gentle tone, “and you’re needed for another important task. Mother knows our plan, but is nervous. If Menelaus sees her, she’s likely to give everything away. Find an excuse to stay with her and make sure she stays in her room.”
“What about the old king?” Euryclea asked, her loyalty to the man who saved her from a cruel slave master as strong as ever, even after thirty years.
“Father’s retired to the farm for a short spell. If he’s seen as ruling again, it might set off ideas about him leading the Ithacans to Troy.” Odysseus looked at Euryclea’s horrified face. “Oh, I wouldn’t let that happen, but he’s best out of the way.”
Euryclea seemed satisfied with that and beckoned to my sister. “We’ll find the latest oils and fragrances from the mainland and see which your mother prefers.”
Ctimene glanced at me. “But I want to meet King Menelaus. I’m as pretty as her.”
I noticed Odysseus’ lips twitch slightly but finally he managed a frown. “You can when you’re Neomene’s age, but for now you obey Euryclea and look after Mother. Go with your nurse, I order it.”
My sister sighed and then shot me an angry look as Euryclea pulled her from the chamber.
Odysseus blew out his cheeks. “That’s Mother, Euryclea and Ctimene dealt with.” He watched Penelope tie the last braid in my hair. “And you’re ready too, Neomene. I’d not realised how grown up you’d become.”
“You’ve not been looking very hard, my husband,” Penelope said, as she gave a final adjustment to the robe. “Now that’s good. You’re fit to greet the King of Sparta. Don’t be over-awed by him. Menelaus is tall and handsome, but he’s a generous man at heart. He’ll listen to what you say.”
Odysseus took my arm. “The guards know what’s expected and they’ll escort you down to the harbour. I’ll need time to harness the ox and the mule, so delay Menelaus as much as possible.” He lowered his voice as he opened the door. “And may the goddess Athena guide you in our deceit.”
The King Is Mad
M
y brother’s words echoed in my head, like cries of seagulls following fishermen’s boats. I fixed my eyes on the backs of the two palace guards marching ahead of me and concentrated on the steady stamp of their feet. The rhythm stopped only when a herd of goats wandered across the track.
The younger of the two men shook his head. “Looks like Thaddeus gone and lost them again. They’ll be heading for the palace stables, I shouldn’t doubt. The stable boys tell me they’ve got a liking for horse fodder.”
My laugh sounded high pitched and nervous, even to my ears, but the guards laughed too and appeared not to notice. We’d all been hiding our anxiety since the news of Helen’s abduction reached Ithaca nine days before. The servant who’d related the story thought it an interesting piece of gossip, an entertaining rumour about people she didn’t know and from a land she’d never seen. But as soon as the words left her lips, Penelope’s sewing slipped from her fingers. Before her attendant could retrieve it, my usually calm sister-in-law had run from the room.
Mother’s stern look forbade me from following her. She and I continued our needlecraft for the rest of the morning, the uneasy silence only punctuated by a servant’s cough or repeated instructions to unpick my untidy work. And while I fought with the tangled stitching, I wondered what could be so special about Helen of Sparta.
At twilight, Odysseus took me to the seclusion of Father’s orchard and explained why Helen’s fate was entwined with our own. There I learnt about the oath he and the other princes of Greece had made at Helen’s wedding, the oath to join together and attack any man who stole her away. It was Odysseus’ idea; a way of preventing the many Greek kingdoms fighting over a beautiful woman. And it had worked. Despite being desired by almost every man who’d ever seen her, no one had attempted to take Helen since her marriage to King Menelaus.
Until this summer.
Then, when the days were at their longest and the wheat and flax ripened in the Spartan valley, a foreign prince arrived from the great city of Troy. Gifts were exchanged and he was welcomed as a friend and trusted ally. But on the fourth day of the celebrations, Menelaus was called away to attend the funeral of his grandfather. The following night, Paris of Troy snatched Helen and fled.
Shouts from the harbour brought me back to the present. The road swept round and the jetty ran directly in front of us. My stomach lurched at the sight of the Spartan ship again. Much closer now, I saw it was black and sleek, with a sinister looking eye painted on each side of the bow.
An excited knot of Ithacans had already gathered by the dock. The older guard fell in beside me, while the younger man ran down the steps and pushed a path through the onlookers, leading me to the front of the jetty. Then they stood at my side, their spears gripped in their right hand and their polished shields on their left, ready to welcome the Spartan king.
We watched as the sailors pulled down the sail and dismantled the mast. The pilot shouted orders to the oarsmen and as the ship drew alongside the wooden platform, the Spartan crew flung ropes to the Ithacans waiting by the mooring posts. Before the ship was secured, a tall, broad-shouldered man jumped ashore. My heart pounded as I took in his appearance. His well-made clothes and confident manner revealed his wealth and importance. His handsome face confirmed he was Menelaus. I straightened my back, took a deep breath and called out a formal greeting, of the sort I’d heard a thousand times at the palace.
“Menelaus, son of Atreus and noble King of Sparta, you are welcome to the island of Ithaca. King Odysseus cannot meet you today, but I am his sister, Neomene. The guards will escort you to the palace while I relate the events that have befallen us. Queen Penelope will then receive you as her honoured guest.”
He strode towards me, concentrating on me, taking me seriously. He held out his hands to clasp mine, treating me as a friend and equal. Trembling, I took his hands and smiled at him.
As we pulled away and started to walk from the jetty, a second man pushed in between us.
“Where’s the rogue, Odysseus?” the intruder cried.
I stepped back from him, too surprised to stop myself.
“Palamedes, be still,” Menelaus said, taking the man’s arm. “We are guests here. You forget yourself.”
“I forget nothing,” he hissed, his dark eyes still fixed on me. “We come on Agamemnon’s business and Odysseus should be here to receive us. This girl is an insult.”
“No insult was intended. I’m Neomene of Ithaca, daughter of Laertes and sister to Odysseus. I am here to accompany King Menelaus to the palace,” I said, sounding much more confident than I felt. “Forgive me if I’ve neglected you in any way. You were not expected and I don’t know who you are.”
The man snorted. “Then go and fetch someone who does.”
“Let me introduce Prince Palamedes, the elder son of King Nauplius of Euboea,” Menelaus said quickly. “He’s here to record the number of ships each kingdom can provide, as part of our joint force against Troy. Ithaca is our last call and I fear it must be fatigue from the long sea journey that’s made the prince impatient.”
I’d seen enough of palace diplomacy to know the usual approach was to praise an unhappy guest, even if that was the last thing you felt like doing. So I forced a smile. “Welcome, son of King Nauplius. It is an honour that you have sailed all this way to consult with our king.” He met my smile with the scowl of an ill-tempered child, displeased with a new toy. I tried to recall anything I’d ever heard about the miserable prince, something special I could use to flatter him. “Even here in faraway Ithaca we know of your quick mind and your clever wit. Prince Palamedes, we will escort you and King Menelaus to the palace immediately.”
I nodded to the guards and they marched towards the harbour steps. Menelaus strode after them and I thought all was well, until Palamedes folded his arms and remained on the jetty. We stared at each other, his eyes seeming to penetrate through all my lies. Flustered, I made one final attempt at persuasion. “We’ve heard of your clever inventions. Perhaps you will talk about them later, at the palace?”
Palamedes raised a black eyebrow and my heart sank. He was waiting for me to tell him what those clever inventions were. I had the sickening sensation of a hunter falling into his own deeply dug trap.
The eyebrow hovered expectantly.
“Inventions such as … a board game with counters,” I said, wishing I could think of a more impressive achievement. His eyebrows joined together in a deepening frown and I knew I’d insulted him again. Defeated, I changed the subject. “Come, let us catch up with Menelaus and the guards. They are waiting for us at the steps.”
I walked towards Menelaus as calmly as I could, cursing myself for mentioning the stupid board game and wondering what I was meant to do if Palamedes refused to follow. Odysseus hadn’t prepared me for that situation. Reaching Menelaus, I shook my head. “I’ve tried my best, but your friend is reluctant to join us. Perhaps he prefers to stay on the ship until you return?”
“Palamedes is no friend,” Menelaus sighed, and then started back to the jetty. “Continue on with your escort, Neomene. I’ll help him see reason.”
By the time we’d climbed to the top of the steps, the two men were arguing, their angry voices booming around the harbour. I glanced about. Groups of Ithacan sailors and fishermen watched the spectacle from the top of the harbour wall. This was entertainment they hadn’t expected and most looked delighted.
“Hope they don’t kill each other,” the elder guard muttered, wiping sweat from his face. “Be awkward, having two of them dead.”
“I’m sure it won’t come to that,” I said, not really sure at all. I pointed to the alder trees by the side of the track. “We’ll wait in the shade. Prince Palamedes will have to come to us.”
