Chapter 21
News of war came the following summer.
Word spread quickly through the palace, which was hardly surprising. If there was one thing slaves had in common, it was a love of gossip. Secrets were our trade, and we were experts at unearthing them. Our eyes and ears were everywhere after all.
“Did you hear?” one of the kitchen girls whispered as we hauled jars of olive oil up the steep palace steps. I did not know her name. I had never bothered to ask. “Princess Helen got herself stolen by some foreign prince!”
I gave a vague nod. I had no interest in conversation.
I had no interest in anything at all beyond my duties.
Since my interaction with Odysseus in the autumn, I had focused on keeping my head down and working myself to the bone.
I could stomach playing the dutiful, obedient slave if it gave me my freedom.
But there had been no word from the prince.
“Paris of Troy, they call him,” the girl continued eagerly. “They’re sayin’ Paris stole Helen from right under Menelaus’s nose! Imagine that: hosting some Trojan in your own home and he runs off with your wife! Foreigners got no respect for our customs.”
For some reason, everyone seemed more fixated on the disrespect to Menelaus than on Helen, who had been abducted by a stranger.
“Menelaus and his brother are declaring war on Troy! They’ve got all of Greece to join them! Can you believe that?”
A man raising arms because his ego was bruised? Of course I could believe it. But I only shrugged as we ascended yet another flight of stairs.
The kitchens were set halfway up the palace hill. I think this was intended to be helpful, keeping an equal distance between the ground level where we received food deliveries and the hilltop where our masters dwelled. In reality, it just turned every trip into a headache-inducing trek.
I was sweating by the time we reached the kitchens and silently cursing whoever had thought it a good idea to build a palace into a bloody hillside.
“Did you see him? The prince of Euboea?” one of the cooks asked as he bustled over, plucking the jars from our aching arms. “He’s come to force Master Odysseus to join the war.”
“Nah, we saw nothin’,” the girl beside me answered. “But he’s wastin’ his time, that’s for sure. That prince won’t convince Odysseus to fight.”
“He doesn’t have to convince him.”
A few heads turned in our direction, surprised to hear my voice. I think several of them believed I couldn’t even speak Greek.
“What d’you mean?” The girl eyed me curiously.
“Odysseus swore an oath to protect Helen’s marriage,” I said. “He has to fight.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because I was there when he swore it.”
She gaped at me incredulously.
“Odysseus isn’t a man of war,” the cook insisted. “He won’t fight.”
“Then he will be going against his oath, and the gods will punish him.”
There was a collective gasp as someone hissed at me, “You shouldn’t say such things.”
“I’m just stating facts,” I shot back. “If Odysseus refuses to fight, then he’s not only a coward but a liar. Although I can’t say I would be all that surprised. He reeks of both.”
The kitchen fell deathly silent then, everyone frozen in place, eyes fixed behind my head.
“Melantho.”
That voice. I recognized it instantly.
Turning, I found Penelope standing behind me, a bowl of herbs cradled in her hands. In the past year, I had stolen a thousand glances at her, but this was the first time our eyes had met since the morning after we had arrived.
My focus dipped to her swollen stomach, and I could not conceal my surprise at how much bigger she was than when I had last seen her strolling in the courtyard. She looked ready to burst.
A tense anticipation sparked in the air as the slaves awaited their future queen’s response.
I knew Penelope was not one for punishment, but I also knew she would have to do something.
She could not have me bad-mouthing her husband and getting away with it; such a thing would only reflect badly on her.
“Come to my chambers,” she finally said. “I wish to speak with you. Alone.”
She did not wait for me to follow as she turned and walked out.
***
“Close the door, please.”
Wordlessly, I obeyed Penelope’s command, shutting the door behind us, then leaning back against it. I had never been inside her private chambers before, and I tried to look disinterested as I glanced around the space.
Like Odysseus’s quarters, Penelope’s were situated at the very top of the hill the palace stood upon. But unlike Odysseus’s, hers were tucked away, out of sight, at the far end of a meandering hallway.
Penelope’s central room was enviably large, opening out onto a sweeping balcony that overlooked the glittering sea beyond.
The walls were painted with dancing women, swirling around one another in garish splashes of paint.
Everywhere I looked, the surfaces were covered in cushions and blankets, as if Odysseus feared Penelope might shatter at any given moment.
Aside from that, the room felt markedly bare. Empty.
There were two doors set on opposite sides of the space. The one nearest to me opened on to a room with a neat row of beds, the handmaids’ chamber. The other door was shut, but I assumed it led to Penelope’s bedchamber. The one she would sleep in on nights she did not spend with Odysseus.
I wondered how often she used it, then immediately shoved the thought away.
Penelope had remained silent during the long walk here, keeping a steady gait despite those punishingly steep steps.
Now she was pacing back and forth over a rug, her strides somehow still elegant even with her giant stomach.
I noticed the woven pattern beneath her feet had worn away, faded from where she had no doubt paced there many times before. What thoughts had chased those steps?
The silence grew taut between us. We had not been alone together since the day we had left Sparta. A familiar guilt reared up inside me, but I suffocated it instantly.
“So is this the part where you scold me?” I asked from where I lounged against her door, arms lazily folded. The picture of insolence.
“I am not going to scold you. But you should know you cannot speak of Odysseus like that beneath his own roof.”
I had clearly touched a nerve, and it sharpened something inside me to know Penelope was so defensive of him.
“It is utterly foolish. Are you trying to get yourself punished?”
I rolled my eyes. “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m doing. It’s just been so long since I felt the whip cutting open my flesh, I wished for the opportunity again.”
Penelope stopped and stared at me. “Do not say such things.”
I looked away, and she continued pacing, hands massaging her lower back. Sweat dappled her temples, though the room felt pleasantly cool.
“He is not a coward,” she continued, a little breathlessly now. “It is not cowardly to want to stay by your family and kingdom instead of risking your life for another king’s wife.”
“If I remember correctly, it’s Odysseus’s fault everyone is having to risk their life for Helen,” I pointed out. “Odysseus swore an oath. An oath he insisted on. He’s only got himself to blame.”
Penelope paused, wincing. She tilted her head back to stare at the ceiling as if the answers lay above us.
“Odysseus also swore an oath to Ithaca when he was named Laertes’s heir. Why should Tyndareus’s oath be valued above that? Surely being a king, a father, is more noble than being dragged to foreign lands to slay innocent men?”
“What of all the other kings and fathers forced to fight? Why should Odysseus be discounted and not they?”
“Because they want to. They want the glory and the riches and the fame. Odysseus does not care for those things.”
“Of course he wants those things, just at an easier price.”
She gasped, doubling over as if my words had been a physical blow to the gut.
“Penelope…what’s the matter?” I took a tentative step forward, my concern for her instantly deflating all traces of my temper.
“I’m in labor,” she said with surprising calmness.
“You’re what?”
“In labor. I have been for some time now.”
“Who else knows?”
“You would be the first.”
She then moved toward the table at the center of the room and began gathering the various herbs she had retrieved from the kitchens.
“What are you doing?”
“I have been researching pain remedies,” she said.
Her hands shook as she grabbed a bunch of crocuses and began plucking out their crimson tongues.
“The doctors were all useless, of course. You would think, with the commonness of childbirth, one of them might have researched a method to alleviate pain for women or make the process easier. But of course, men are not interested in the troubles of women, even when those troubles service them.”
The words streamed out of her as she ground the ingredients together with a pestle, smashing them into a bowl with unfettered frustration. Sweat trickled down her forehead, traveling along her nose to where it dangled precariously.
“What can I do to help?”
She looked at me, eyes frantic yet focused. “I think it is time to fetch Eurycleia, but please tell her not to make a fuss. I do not want to be surrounded by flapping women.”
“What of Odysseus?”
“He cannot be disturbed.” She returned to the mixture, pouring in water before she knocked back the contents in one gulp. From the twist of her face, I could tell it tasted foul.
“He cannot be disturbed? For the birth of his own child?”
Another spasm tore through her, and she bowed forward.
“Please, Melantho. Don’t argue with me. Not now. We don’t have time.”
I held my tongue and ran to find Eurycleia.
The old maid was lecturing some young slaves in the courtyard. When I interrupted, she threw me her usual glare. But after I explained the situation, her sourness quickly evaporated.
“Where is she?” she demanded.
“In her rooms. Where is Odysseus?”
“He cannot be disturbed.”
“But—”
“Childbirth is women’s business. The men will only be a nuisance.”
We found Penelope in her bedchamber, doubled over in breathless agony. A low, horrible moan slipped from her lips, sounding more animal than human.
Without hesitation, Eurycleia swept her arms around Penelope’s shoulders and guided her to the bed.
“Come now, mistress. You need to lie down. There we go. Easy does it,” she cooed before turning to where I hovered in the doorway. “You. Leave. Fetch the princess’s handmaids.”
“No,” Penelope gritted out. “Stay. Please.”
Stay. The word struck a chord inside me, reverberating through my bones.
“Very well, but you better make yourself useful and stop standing there gawking like a fish,” Eurycleia huffed. Penelope’s legs were bent upward now, and the old maid was peering between them. “The baby isn’t ready to come just yet.”
Penelope let out a quiet whimper.
“What should I do?” I asked Eurycleia.
“I need to fetch a few things. I want you to keep her distracted. She needs to stay calm until it is time to push. What are you staring at me like that for? Go stand beside her. Go on. Closer! She’s giving birth, you silly child. She isn’t infectious.”
Awkwardly, I approached Penelope, hands fidgeting at my sides.
“Lost your tongue, girl?” Eurycleia snapped as she bustled toward the door.
“I…I’m trying to think of what to say,” I admitted.
“It doesn’t matter what. Just distract her.”
Memories gulped for air, our history so knotted between us, choking me into silence.
“Talk to me about that day,” Penelope whispered. Her eyes were closed, her sweat-dappled face lined with pain.
“What day?” I whispered back.
“My favorite day.”
I felt the memory wrap around my heart and squeeze tight. For a moment, I struggled to know where to start, but then I saw another spasm of agony steal across Penelope’s face, and I forced myself to say something. Anything.
“It…it was near the end of summer,” I began, shifting uneasily.
Penelope’s eyes were still shut, so I closed my own, the words coming a little easier in the darkness.
“I had wanted us to do something you’d never done before.
Something you would remember when you left Sparta.
I decided we should go for a swim in the river.
You were unsure at first, but I somehow managed to convince you.
So we snuck away, and when we reached the river, you didn’t want to go in at first. But then I took your hand, and we jumped in together.
” I found myself smiling, though my throat felt tight.
“We spent all day there, swimming and laughing and lying on the bank looking up at the sun. And I remember having this feeling in my chest… It’s hard to describe, really.
But for a moment, I felt…infinite. And then you turned to me and said this was your favorite day, and I remember thinking I had never heard anything more wonderful, and all I wanted was to have a thousand more days just like that. ”
I opened my eyes and realized Penelope was watching me, her gaze burning like twin silver flames. She said nothing, but the silence was a living thing between us, as bright and electrifying as a bolt of Zeus’s lightning ripping open the sky.
In that moment, time seemed to hold its breath, and it felt as if the whole world had faded to nothingness around us. But then another tremor of pain gripped Penelope, and reality came crashing back into brutal clarity.
“It’s time,” Eurycleia said, appearing beside the bed.
I nodded, shaking away the lingering emotion.
“I’m going to need you to start pushing, mistress. Can you do that?” Eurycleia’s calm voice was at odds with my racing heartbeat. “A nice strong push for me. Yes?”
Penelope’s eyes slid to mine, and I saw how afraid she was.
“You can do this,” I said.
“Will you stay?” Her words tugged at my heart, so achingly vulnerable.
I nodded, and her fingers twitched as if in silent question. After a slight hesitation, I took her hand in mine and squeezed.
“You can do this, Penelope,” I said, firmer now. The resolution in my voice seemed to seep into her, determination flaring.
“Ready now? After three,” Eurycleia instructed. “One, two, three…”
The cry that ripped from Penelope shuddered through me, her hand gripping mine so tightly my fingers crunched. As I watched her face contort, I felt a swell of fear mingled with pride, and I willed every ounce of energy from my body to spill into hers.
Please, Eileithyia, Great Goddess of Childbirth, watch over Penelope…
She collapsed backward onto the pillows, gasping for breath.
“Excellent work, mistress,” Eurycleia praised. “Now take a few breaths, then we must go again. Come on now. A nice deep breath.”
I squeezed Penelope’s hand again as she inhaled, readying herself for the battle ahead.