"I'm not with child. What risk can there be?"
"I know Agamemnon. I can believe he would kill a man to get a woman he wanted. Any woman. We are allies, but I don't trust him where women are concerned. I won't ruin the accords of the Achaians by tempting him with you."
"Odysseus!" She stared at him, caught between tears and laughing outright. Penelope decided laughter was the better course. "Agamemnon may care overmuch for his bed pleasures, but he's no fool. He wouldn't be High King if he were. He wouldn't risk the accords just to tumble me into his bed."
"I can believe he would kill me to have you."
"He needs you. Your advice and your loyalty as kinsman are more important to him. As it is..." She fought the breathless sensation tightening her body and struggled for words. "Has Helen been invited with Menelaos? There, you see?" she said, when he nodded reluctantly. "With Helen there, he wouldn't even see me. Do you think he would hurt his brother, to take Helen?"
"No." He smiled and embraced her. "Penelope, you are a hard woman to argue with. But do two things to please me, will you?"
"One is to agree to stay home in Ithaka?"
"And the other is, after I have sailed, look deeply and carefully into your mirror."
"Odysseus--"
"No more of this." He stood, holding her hand to pull her to her feet. "We have many arrangements to make before I sail with the dawn."
* * * *
Laertes journeyed with his son, so Odysseus left Mentor in charge of both households. Penelope didn't mind. She respected the man and he was pleasant company. Mentor answered her questions in detail and told her anything she wanted about news from the rest of the world. He didn't talk down to her like to a child, as many elders were prone to do.
The day Odysseus sailed, Penelope stood on the beach with Mentor and Antikleia, watching the ship until it had vanished into the morning haze. Then she walked up to the house in silence and went directly to her chamber. She stood long in front of her mirror, as Odysseus had told her.
The polished sheet of bronze had been a wedding gift from Laertes, lighter in color than anything she had ever seen. Penelope knew it reflected her with more flattery than she liked. Even taking into account the golden tones it gave her skin, the softening of lines, she admitted she was fair to look on. More rounded in the hip, fuller in the breast, softer in her face. More pleasant than she had dared to hope even a year ago.
"But still no risk to your life or a temptation to Agamemnon," she whispered to her absent husband.
Penelope laughed, covered the mirror with its cloth, and went downstairs. There was sheering to oversee and seeds to buy from the merchants. Too much to do to busy herself with worry and vanities.
Then a thought caught her, halfway down the staircase. Agamemnon had likely killed to have Klytemaistra. Few doubted it. And yet only a few years after marrying her, rumors said Agamemnon took other women to his bed. Not always when his wife was unavailable. Some rumors said Klytemaistra had tried to kill one or more of the women.
Penelope shivered, wondering if Odysseus had been more right to be cautious than either of them had known.
* * * *
Odysseus returned to Ithaka in less than a moon, quietly fuming about the wasted time. When Agamemnon sent for him for advice, he had also sent envoys to King Priam of Ilion to complain. Odysseus had barely been at Mycenae two days when the envoys returned, with presents for Agamemnon and a thinly worded apology.
"Gossip was the only profit any of us had in the trip," he told Penelope as they walked up the path to their home.
She had been walking the beach with Mentor while the older man taught her about tides. Penelope recognized Odysseus' ship and ran into the water up to her knees to meet it. She didn't care that people had laughed and others had cheered. Odysseus leaped from the ship before it docked and caught her up in his arms. His first kisses made her dizzy, like strong wine. They had laughed together, walking from the beach, until she asked how the council had proceeded and what had happened.
"I wasn't aware men indulged in gossip. Certainly not the kings of the Achaians," she teased. Something had gone cold in her at the quiet anger she sensed in him and she longed to bring his laughing, teasing mood back.
"Continue like this and I will not tell you about your cousins," he said, arching an eyebrow at her. When she pouted, he squeezed her closer to his side. "Klytemaistra is with child. Again. Agamemnon claims all the oracles and priests say this child will be a boy."
"His reputation is in sore danger if they don't have a son this time."
"Indeed. More important, Helen is also expecting. She didn't come to Mycenae. Menelaos confided she is so sick she screams at him if he holds her hand." Odysseus chuckled. "He's in terror for her, but doesn't have the words to tell her so."
"Did you give him the words?" Penelope marveled at the image of Helen sick and disagreeable. Her cousin had always enjoyed the best health.
"Wife, you have grown impudent in my absence." He frowned down at her. When she only laughed, he relented, gathering her close to him with a groan. "I missed you to the point of pain," Odysseus whispered in her ear.
"I have not missed the knots in my hair every morning," she retorted. It was a lie. She enjoyed Odysseus' touch when he played with her hair after they had made love.
"Witch, what should I do with you?" he growled, nearly squeezing the breath from her. She reveled in the strength of his arms around her, even as she knew, as her dreams had told her, Agamemnon would call him away again.
* * * *
Their happiness in his homecoming didn't last long. The next morning, Odysseus went down to the bay to see to some repairs on his ship. When he returned a few hours later, Penelope heard his voice crack through the hall, scolding the servants, ordering his fawning hunting dogs away. She nearly dropped the tunic she had begun for Laertes, instantly worried.
Though she waited, Odysseus didn't come near her workroom. She didn't know whether to feel relieved or worried when he left the house a short time later. The tension left with him, but her worry only grew. Her own words grew sharp with her women, though she tried to control herself better.
As the afternoon wore on and still Odysseus had not come back, she retreated to her private garden. Sometimes the high walls made her feel a prisoner. Now, their thick solidity made her feel safe, able to hide. Odysseus found her there, her fingers muddy from tending a young olive tree with roots coming up from the soil.
"Someone would think you were hiding from me," he said as he came in.
"Do I have reason?" Penelope tried to take comfort from the smile he gave her. Then she saw the stiffness in his mouth, the forced brightness in his eyes. "Are more men complaining that I lead their daughters astray?"
"Do your dreams tell you this?" His smile faded. He came to her side and squatted next to her.
"Then I am the cause of your new anger."
"No, you could never make me angry." He took her hand, absently brushing the drying mud from her fingers. "Though there are some who would try to blame you for Ithaka's problems."
"Something happened at the harbor this morning. I guessed it had to do with me, when you didn't come near me all day." She smiled at him, feeling her lips tremble. Penelope wished he would take her into his arms and kiss her worries away.
"Too wise, my witch," he whispered. Odysseus shook his head. "The fishing is not good this spring, the rains are as bad as the year before. The planting is difficult and the early crops have not sprouted. All the same as the year before. Only this year, they blame it on us."
"No, they blame it on their prince's bride." She squeezed his hand. Penelope found it a strange relief to have that accusation out in the open at last.
"They blame it on us. Several 'friends' offered to make sacrifices to strengthen my manhood. Others say I should take you to Aphrodite's temple to have your womb opened."
"Why don't they blame Aphrodite, instead?" She would have laughed, but sparks of suppresse
d anger remained in his eyes.
"Now you understand."
"Odysseus--"
"I beat the man who said I should give you to another husband and take a new bride."
"My childlessness is none of your fault. I am simply not ready yet to conceive," she added, her voice trembling a bit. Penelope wished she had told him about Eurynome's potion. He might have handled the accusations more easily. Now, she knew it was the wrong time.
"Sweet Penelope." His expression gentled. "You are my delight, and not just in my bed," he added with a chuckle. "I would sooner sink Ithaka in the sea than give you away."
She flung her arms around him and made her kisses passionate and sweet. That night, lying in his arms, she resolved to stop taking the potion and to pray for a child.
* * * *
The second call from Agamemnon came early in the summer. Again, Odysseus and his father both went, leaving Mentor in charge. No word came. Penelope sent the servants to the harbor every time a merchant ship arrived, to hear the latest rumors.
Her temper crumbled. She was not pregnant. She wished Odysseus had taken her with him to Mycenae, to consult with Klytemaistra. After all, her cousin had three children and a fourth coming. Penelope overheard talk blaming the bad year on her. She missed Odysseus and at the same time grew angry with him. She hated the island when he wasn't there.
One morning more than three weeks after Odysseus had left, she heard his name spoken from the other side of the wall in her private garden. Penelope habitually went there to think about him and wonder how the council concerning Ilion progressed. She heard his name spoken by a servant girl and was torn out of her longing thoughts.
"He kissed her ten times between the threshold and the harbor," the girl continued, her voice heavy with sighs. "I counted every one." A high-pitched giggle followed her words, helping Penelope identify the speaker as Autonoe, a girl bought that spring to help in the weaving.
"There's no good in counting kisses until you are the one receiving them," Nerilia retorted, her scratchy, deep voice unmistakable. A few other girls chimed in, agreeing.
"My father says only blessings can fall on a land where the king and queen adore each other," Melantho put in. "Men want me, but they never look at me like our master looks at her."
"He won't look at her like that for long." The speaker's voice held a sleek satisfaction that made Penelope writhe. What did the girl know?
A few girls asked what the speaker meant. She laughed, making them beg a few more times.
"When she's fat with his child, his gaze will wander," she explained. "It's the way of men. Then he'll start visiting your beds again."
"Again?" Laline snorted. She was a plump, golden girl, with a merry laugh and nimble hands for the weaving. As far as Penelope knew, she had no lack of sweethearts. "Our master has not even looked at us since he brought the mistress home. If his gaze hasn't wandered in nearly a year, what makes you think the rest of him will?"
"I wouldn't mind if Lord Odysseus visited me," Melantho admitted. "He must be deft. My lady always smiles after she shares his bed."
Penelope felt her face begin to warm. An ache of purely physical longing for Odysseus grew deep inside.
"What hope do I have?" the maid continued, discontent coloring her voice. "He'll take no other women because he loves her."
"Men love with their bodies, not their hearts. When she's too fat to be held and her temper cracks, he'll come looking for entertainment with the rest of you. And hopefully other island girls," the nameless speaker purred.
"Thoosa, you never had a chance before, and now you're--" Autonoe began, to be cut off by a cackling laugh.
"You're jealous because he won't look at the servant girls in his own house. What Lord Odysseus does on the rest of Ithaka, his wife can't control."
"You make him sound as if he fears her, not that he loves her," Nerilia accused.
"I've heard my mother and grandmother talking. They say the lady leads in midnight rites. Does she think she rules Ithaka and her husband only serves her, like in the old days?" Thoosa snorted, like a bull. "She has no power. Does she think she's a goddess because she's cousin to Helen?" She laughed and other girls joined her.
"She'll have no sway over him if she doesn't give him a child soon," another girl pointed out. "No matter what she does, she will lose him."
Penelope looked at her nails and wished she had not kept them trimmed to make weaving easier. She had seen two village girls scratching each other's faces in a fight once. She thought she could manage a creditable surprise attack.
Then she caught herself, physically and mentally. Reacting would only please Thoosa and give credence to her words. She dug her fingers into the ground and whispered a prayer to Athena for strength to endure. The laughter died, and Penelope strained her ears to catch every word, no matter how it hurt. Knowledge was her only defense.
"It would be nice for him to favor us," another girl said, her voice soft. Penelope imagined the girl blushed, she sounded so timid. "I wouldn't feel so guilty when he came to me, if she was pregnant."
Other voices broke in, a babble of agreement and contradiction. Penelope knew she should not feel hurt that Odysseus had slept with the girl slaves in his parents' household. She knew jealousy was foolish, and she had vowed not to give her heart. She concentrated on what she had heard; Odysseus had not touched another woman since bringing her back as his bride. There was reason for pride in that.
Penelope decided to tell Eurynome not to allow Thoosa into the household any longer. The girl was hired daily to help with weaving, carding, and kitchen work. A little extra work for the household girls would give them less time to gossip.
"I wish she was pregnant right now," one girl said, laughing. "By the time he returns, she'd be huge and hating his touch."
"Lord Odysseus would not have left with such bad grace if she was," Thoosa said, returning to her smug, oily tones.
"He wouldn't worry that another man would steal her while he was gone. Who would want a woman retching in his ship, the whole trip from Ithaka?" another put in, laughing.
"My lady would not leave," Autonoe insisted.
"She can't leave, even if she wanted to," Thoosa said. "Why do you think Lord Mentor watches the household?"
"To help her. To lead in defense if pirates raid us," another girl said. Penelope recognized the voice as Hypodamia, Autonoe's shadow. She felt some sympathy for the girl, as tiny, dark and easily overlooked as Penelope had been as a child.
"He fears another man would woo her. Simply being the cousin of Helen, many would want her. Even if she was as ugly as Cerberus," Thoosa added with a nasty chuckle. "Odysseus trusts Mentor because he fears him. My father says the two argued years ago and Odysseus let the boar through his defense to attack Mentor. And then he made sure the wounded leg heal crooked. Mentor lives in terror Odysseus will do far worse to him, so he is completely trustworthy. Likely the only man on Ithaka Odysseus trusts."
"He watches my lady to protect her," Autonoe insisted.
"He watches her because Odysseus distrusts her. He is always watching," Anglia said, her voice dropping. "Why should he trust her just because she shares his bed? He wouldn't trust any of us, would he? We're his property to sell or to kill as he pleases. We have more reason to be faithful. If she displeases him, he cannot punish her. Helen would bring Agamemnon and Menelaos against Ithaka. All Lord Odysseus could do is send her home to Sparta."
"He plays a game with her heart," Nerilia said, her voice mimicking Thoosa's for satisfaction. "While she is besotted with him, she will do nothing against him."
Penelope covered her ears with her fists, to block out the new, heated argument. Part of her screamed to cast dignity to the winds and rush out to scold the girls. Part of her shrank from doing anything except blocking her ears and trying to forget what she had heard.
Yet there was another part of her that struggled to keep silent as the tears gathered in her eyes. The part of her that had do
ubted and wondered about the small things her husband did. The tricks, the tiny lies and stories to get others to follow him. There was truth in the gossip.
Odysseus had told her Mentor protected her and the household. There were different kinds of protection, she knew. Sometimes protection imprisoned.
She had wondered before if Odysseus manipulated her emotions, her thoughts, for the sake of peace in their household and bed. She wondered now if he had merely resorted to sweet words and caresses instead of dominating her to get his way. An adoring, happy wife was certainly easier to live with than one who walked sullen and resentful or even cowered in fear.
"He works to please me," she whispered, her voice muted by the girls' voices on the other side of the wall. "He is either enchanted by me or plays a part to rule me with deception." The tears dried from her eyes. Penelope scrubbed her face with her sleeve and leaned against the olive tree.
She closed her eyes and examined her life with Odysseus. She had to evaluate, understand and see clearly. The doubts hurt like knives in her chest. She needed to deal with them honestly, even if it meant seeing her marriage as an empty charade.
Odysseus appeared devoted to her, as she was to him. What if that were all the truth of their marriage--appearances? She tried to conduct herself with honesty toward him. Yet if Odysseus trusted no one, how could he be sure she acted honestly?
If a man trusted no one, could he be trusted? Did Odysseus speak truth to her? Did his whispered words in the night mean anything? Or did he only speak and act to bring the desired reaction from her?
The shady, peaceful sanctuary of her garden became a prison. Was Mentor a jailor instead of a friend? She had thought the man's hesitancy was shyness. She had thought they were becoming friends. Did he relax in her presence because he knew his duty was easy and Odysseus would not grow angry with him?
Penelope thought until her head ached as badly as her heart, but came to no conclusion. Through the thudding in her ears, she heard the servant girls move on to another task elsewhere. She didn't move for a long time after that, and then only to the garden pool to wash her face.
THE DREAMER'S LOOM Page 18