The walls were plain, clean white, awaiting decoration. A long table, a wide chest and a bed frame, all of the same dark wood, all carved with the same design of owls, waited in one room. Penelope stepped up to the table and inspected the fine carving.
"Your work?" she asked, already knowing the answer. She looked up and smiled at him. "Owls, to honor Athena."
"To ask protection for my bride." He beckoned, and they walked through the doorway to inspect the other two rooms. They had stools, chairs and tables, waiting for occupants, different designs but all made by Odysseus' hand. The rooms echoed, waiting. "These will be your chambers, if they please you."
"Very much," Penelope murmured. She looked to the shutters that could lock tight, keeping all inside warm and dry. She envisioned the rooms flooded with sunlight when the day grew older. She imagined she heard springtime birds singing, smelled fruit ripening on the branches and vines in the orchards beyond the house. The trees were abandoned now as fall approached and the gardens slept. She imagined what the estate would look like, once people lived there.
"When our home is finished, I will make you a loom. Many in Sparta spoke of your skill in weaving," he added, when she looked at him, questioning. "A new loom, for a new bride and a new life for us."
"What should I make first on it?" she asked, smiling acceptance of his promised gift.
"What would you like to make first?" he countered. Odysseus reached for her hand and when she gave it, led her back to the stairs and down again.
"It is bad luck, tempting the Furies, to make clothes for a child not yet conceived." Penelope smiled when his hand tightened around hers.
"Penelope--"
"Your father wants a grandson very much."
"You heard us." His voice went flat.
"I am flattered you see so much to value in me, so soon. Eurynome once told me a man values his wife for the pleasure he finds in her body, then for the children she gives him, and later learns to recognize her other qualities. You are a most contrary man, my husband." She kept her face and voice solemn.
"Be careful, Penelope." He gathered her close at the bottom of the staircase, a strange light in his eyes. Then mischief wiped that expression away. He laughed and bent to scoop her up into his arms. "Your sweet body makes me forget all other reasons for marrying you," he said, chuckling.
Odysseus carried her to the closed room next to the bottom of the stairs. He fumbled for a moment with a key he had tucked into his belt when they left the house, unlocked the door, then nudged the latch with his knee. The door swung open without a sound into a dark room.
The darkness surrounded them, blinding after the brightness of outside. She lay quietly in his arms, unwilling to upset his balance. Then Odysseus stopped, setting her down so she sat high off the floor. The surface was rough and gave slightly under her weight. He sat next to her, making the surface bounce a little. Penelope felt on either side of her and touched a tight, closely woven netting of ropes, then a wooden frame.
"Your bedroom?" she guessed.
"Our most secret and safe place in all the world. That door has been locked since I left for Sparta. In times of danger, the secrets of this room will be a password between us. Give me your hand." He took it before she could respond and guided her hand to the head of the bed.
Her eyes were adjusting now. Penelope could make out lighter shadows and a tall, thin blackness that was a bedpost. She let Odysseus guide her hand over the wood, feeling the designs carved into it. More owls. It frightened her a little, how much he trusted in Athena's favor and guidance.
"A living olive tree, its roots still solid in the ground under this floor. No one can move this bed without first cutting the trunk, and I can only think of one way to do that without ruining the whole." His voice softened, deepened. Penelope wondered what troubling thoughts went through his mind as he spoke. "This will be a sign for us if danger comes and we are separated. If there is treachery and you trust no one as messenger, send me word that my bed has been moved."
"Is danger approaching?"
"Not yet. Perhaps not ever." He sighed and wrapped his arms around her. Penelope leaned into the warmth and strength of his embrace. "Ilion and Troy cause trouble for those who would pass through the Dardanelles to trade or explore. Agamemnon would avoid war, but if the rumors are true, it could come. Ilion could retaliate by sending raiders of their own to our lands."
"We are half a world away from Ilion," she retorted. "What danger could Ithaka be in?"
"Perhaps none. I learned it is better to expect danger and treachery on every hand and get by on half a night's sleep, than to trust without reason and be murdered in your sleep. There are few men I trust wholeheartedly. Those I do trust have earned it and have my undying loyalty."
"Your father thought it strange that you trust me so much," she murmured. "I have done little to earn it."
"If I don't trust my wife, how can she trust me?" he returned, tightening his arms around her.
Penelope nodded and returned his lingering kisses. A tiny voice of doubt whispered that he trusted her because she had no choice but to be faithful, or he thought she had no power to hurt him with treachery. She clung to him, longing for the spark of passion to destroy such thoughts.
* * * *
"Blood sacrifices will not make a strong foundation," Penelope said, as Odysseus closed the door of their bedroom for the night.
"Shall I take you to all the forts that have stood for generations, built on the blood and bodies of sacrificed warriors?" He smiled as if her words amused him and began undressing.
"Forts, yes. Built for war. We are talking about a home, a place to raise children and live in peace. The Goddess never asked for blood to be spilled, to please her." She sank down on the bench next to the door.
That evening, she had sat quietly with her sewing and listened to Odysseus and his father discuss the sacrifices and ceremonies to bless their new home in only a few days. She had looked forward to the final preparations and listened to their conversation eagerly. There was nothing else to do but sew. Antikleia accepted her, was kind to her, but was no company at all. Penelope had listened, wishing she dared to offer suggestions.
It didn't take long to realize there would be no anointing blessing for the house as her aunt had taught her to make. She had grown frightened, then angry, and bit her lip to keep from speaking in front of Laertes.
"Were we talking about our house?" Odysseus tugged back the blankets and sat down on the bed. "You never said anything while Father and I were talking."
"Because I am still a stranger here!"
"This is your home. All of Ithaka belongs to you."
"Only as your wife. The people don't accept me for myself yet, because I have hardly left this house since we arrived." She stopped and swallowed hard, feeling tightness growing in her throat, a burning in her eyes that foretold tears. Penelope refused to let her control fall apart so easily. "They don't know me. I hardly know your parents."
"We have all been so busy, preparing our home, tending to island matters," Odysseus said, his words slow. He stayed seated, when she wanted him to come to her, gather her up in his arms and hold her tight.
"I know that. Yet I can't help thinking of your promises that we would explore Ithaka together. You said you would teach me all about our home. I know nothing, the people don't know me. I am a stranger here."
"When we are in our home--"
"We will have more time to walk and explore and enjoy ourselves. I know." She tried to smile. "Odysseus, please--I'm not complaining. I understand. I can see how everyone demands your time. All I ask is that you change the blessing ceremony. Blood will not please the Goddess."
"The blessings of milk and wine will not please the other gods. Or the nobles of Ithaka. The Goddess is more understanding than our neighbors." He shook his head and held up his hand to forestall more argument. "I know what you want, and why. I'm glad you're careful of the old rituals. But in this matter my decision mu
st stand. Come to bed."
Slowly, she stood and walked to the other side of the bed. Penelope blinked hard against the tears that still threatened. Eurynome had warned her times like this would come, she simply hadn't expected it so soon. She managed to smile for him as she took off her dress and hung it on a peg on the wall. Odysseus blew out the lamp flame and took her into his arms when she climbed into bed next to him. He kissed her and closed his eyes to sleep. She held still in his arms and stared up at the dark ceiling streaked with moonlight from the high, open window, and began to make plans.
* * * *
The next night, Penelope waited until Odysseus slept before she followed her plan. She slipped out of their bed, dressed in the dark and hurried barefoot through the night to the empty, waiting house. She carried three small jugs, filled with wine, oil and milk, to bless the house as her aunt had taught her. Whispering prayers to the Goddess, naming her Athena, Penelope anointed the doors and the foundation from the three jugs.
The Goddess didn't demand spilled blood and death to call down her blessings. Laertes would perform sacrifices to bless his son's house in the morning. She wouldn't stand in the way of his duty. She simply knew that blood would not bring all the protection and blessing that their home needed.
Penelope lingered over the large, ornate bed in Odysseus' room, remembering the tale he told her of fashioning the bed frame. He loved puzzles and riddles and tricks. Every turn and twist that foiled an adversary was another victory in the struggle to protect everything precious to him. Penelope took special care in anointing his bed, to bring him protection.
When she finished, hurrying to keep from being discovered absent, Penelope returned to the wide, well-set door to anoint it a second time. She pushed it open to step out, clanking the nearly empty jugs against each other in her arms.
Seven silent, pale faces greeted her as she stepped out into the courtyard. Eurykleia stood at the head of the group. She held three pitchers cradled in her arms. Penelope regarded her husband's nurse in silence, returning the woman's silent scrutiny. What defense would she have if the woman denounced her, accused her of betraying her husband? Yet she dared hope those three pitchers were a good sign.
"Ithaka has a queen again." Eurykleia smiled. She gave a deep bow of respect to Penelope. The six older women behind her smiled as well. "Come, your blessing must be finished properly, as the Goddess instructs."
Penelope nodded and let the women lead her out of the courtyard, to the rocky cliffs three bow-shots away from the house. She didn't dare trust her voice. Relief made her knees weak, while exultation at discovering secret worshippers made her heart soar. It was more important, she knew, to have Eurykleia's approval than the support of Odysseus' mother.
The seven women led her down a narrow path along the cliff face to a cave overhung with creeping vines, damp with a spring that soaked through the cracks in the rock. The opening was narrow and long, like the opening of a womb. There had been no such place available in Alybas, the former sanctuary destroyed by warriors who attacked the area. The ruling elders, all men, had said it was useless to rebuild it, because no one needed such a place any longer.
Penelope trembled with excitement, seeing at last a proper sanctuary, attended by women as the Goddess instructed.
She heard a scratching sound behind her, then a hiss and sputter. A lamp flared into light and a woman put away the bit of flint used to strike the spark. Rough, rounded walls gleaming with paintings and damp surrounded Penelope. She stood still, gazing at everything until Eurynome raised her hand to gain her attention. The woman took a folded bundle of cloth from her outer wrap, put it on the low stone in the center of the cave and gestured for Penelope to unwrap it. Inside were honey cakes and pressed cakes of raisins, wet with wine and oil. Penelope understood what was to come next, though she had never before made an offering to the Goddess.
She walked around the stone until she found the hole in the floor of the cave, with cracks radiating out from it. As was proper and required, the hole led down to the bowels of the earth. Penelope knelt before the hole and held out her hands. While the other women chanted prayers for blessing and peace, fertile wombs and fertile fields, asking for warmth and shelter during the winter to come, Penelope took the pitchers from Eurykleia's hands and poured their contents into the hole. Milk, wine, and oil. Then one by one, she slipped the cakes into the hole, to follow the libations into the bowels of the earth.
"We have a queen again in Ithaka and all will be well," one woman whispered as the ritual finished.
The other six women filed out of the cave, leaving Eurykleia and Penelope alone with the flickering lamp. Eurykleia said nothing as she led the way out into the open air and the waning night. Penelope sensed approval and support from the housekeeper. It took the chill of the night away. She had come barefoot and without a cloak as was proper, letting little come between her and the Goddess' soil and sheltering night.
They walked back to Laertes' house together, quiet companionship drawing them closer. Penelope wished Eurykleia would be part of her household, to guide her in her duties as Odysseus' wife and queen.
As they stepped through the wide door into the front hall, where feasts and councils took place, Odysseus entered from the back of the house. He looked like he had awakened only moments before and dressed quickly. He stopped and stood still as a statue, watching Penelope and Eurykleia close and bar the door again. Penelope saw him and something tightened around her heart. She had been gone too long and he had awakened and missed her. She had no idea what to say to him, how to explain. Would he be angry? She had disobeyed. Eurynome's advice, to speak obedience but to do as she saw fit, was not as sound as it had seemed at the time. Then Odysseus' gaze shifted to Eurykleia and his guarded look relaxed.
"You must be cold. Get you back to bed." He nodded to his old nurse, his smile more in his eyes than his lips. Odysseus slipped his arm around Penelope's waist. "Your clothes are damp," he murmured as Eurykleia left them alone.
"Forgive me for worrying you?"
"I should have known better, but..." A muffled chuckle escaped him. "A dream woke me, and it was such that I reached for you before I woke."
"A dream?"
"A terrible dream." He led her back to their room. "I dreamed one hundred men pressed their suit to marry you and you looked at me and didn't know me."
"The day another man tries to claim me, I will be Dyvis again and run away." Her voice shook a little. She knew he wasn't angry.
"Penelope..." Odysseus caught her close against him to kiss her. She clung to him, feeling the warmth of desire begin to pulse. "You come from the Goddess," he whispered. "Penelope, bless me with your loving."
As he picked her up and carried her to their bed, Penelope felt a moment of regret for the bitter potion she had taken earlier. This night of all nights, a child so conceived would have been doubly blessed.
Later, as drowsiness wrapped around them, her thoughts returned to his reaction when she returned. Penelope pressed close against Odysseus and twined her limbs around him.
"Are you cold?" he whispered. He reached for the blankets they had pushed off the bed in their passion. All were out of his reach and he chuckled as he released her.
"You wanted me to go to the Goddess tonight, didn't you?" Penelope sat up, watching as he leaned over the side of the bed. It comforted her a little that Odysseus looked slightly shamed when he turned back to her.
"Would you have understood if I said, go and bless the house, but at night so no one sees you?"
"I think I understand a little, but...did you plan on my meeting Eurykleia and her companions?"
"That was a stroke of blessing." He settled down next to her and draped a blanket over them both. "Everyone knows the plans for the sacrifices. The servants of the Goddess will know what you did in the dark of the night, without your husband's approval. By showing you put higher value on protecting our people and serving the Goddess, rather than obeying your husband, you ha
ve made yourself priestess to the Goddess and proper queen of Ithaka."
"Eurykleia said that." Penelope sighed and closed her eyes and rested her head on his shoulder. The warmth of him felt good in the deepening chill of the night. "Must everything you do have a thousand reasons?"
"Not always." He kissed her, lingering, waking a spark of desire she had thought quenched for the night. "Trust me, even when you don't understand."
Chapter 11
* * *
There came a day when Odysseus didn't have visitors coming to their new home from every side of Ithaka, asking advice or judgment or help of some kind. It was a warm, early fall day, bright, with no clouds threatening on the horizon. Odysseus told Eurynome to pack some food in a cloth--grapes and bread, cheese and a skin of wine. He found Penelope in the courtyard, directing the planting of olive trees. When she turned to him, he caught her around the waist and led her to the outer gate of their house.
"They can work without your leading," he said, when she opened her mouth to protest. "Today is ours, to waste as we please." He laughed at the staring servants and gestured for them to go on with their work.
"But Odysseus--" Penelope stopped short to avoid running into a stack of firewood.
"I promised to show you Ithaka, moons ago. This may be our only chance before winter storms keep us housebound."
Penelope could think of no argument to his reasoning. She laughed and gave herself up to his leading. Whatever they did that day, she knew she would enjoy it. She missed the moonlit talks in the garden in Sparta, the hours of talk they had enjoyed on their journey to Ithaka. Lately, she only saw her husband in the evenings or when he came to her room to share her bed. Odysseus carried most of the duties of Ithaka's king for his father and it took large amounts of his time. All the more reason, she knew, to enjoy these few stolen hours with him.
THE DREAMER'S LOOM Page 15