Chapter 45
Three summers passed.
Three blissful summers.
It was more happiness than most experience in a lifetime, yet still, I was greedy for more.
The Fates, it seemed, had other plans.
It began one morning during the seventh year since the fall of Troy.
Penelope was summoned to the throne room, and I accompanied her as I usually did. As we walked the familiar halls, our fingers brushed, my skin a whispered secret against hers. She smiled sidelong at me, gaze heating.
“You need to stop looking at me like that. It is very distracting.”
“You are very distracting, my queen,” I shot back quietly.
She laughed and I savored the sound, already counting down the seconds to when Nyx would embrace the world and I could embrace mine.
We found a man waiting for us in the throne room, leaning against a pillar with graceful boredom. I walked beside Penelope as she entered, looking regal in her light blue gown, hair woven into a coronet around her head. The bright tinkling of her bracelets was the only sound in the lofty space.
I always found something vaguely somber about this room and the empty throne set atop the dais, looking more like a tombstone than a sign of power.
Penelope never sat on that throne, nor did she ascend the dais. She knew not to wield her power with the same reckless pride as Clytemnestra had in Mycenae. Instead, Penelope walked directly to where the stranger lounged, inspecting his nails.
There was something about the man I immediately disliked; the arrogance oozed from him like sweat.
“You requested an audience with me?” Penelope spoke first, voice firm yet courteous.
The man pushed off the pillar, closing the distance between us with two swaggering steps. His eyes flicked from Penelope to me, a smile creeping across his lips.
He appeared younger than us, perhaps only just past twenty summers. From his expensively dyed robes and well-trimmed beard, I could tell he was someone of wealth. Not royalty but a nobleman perhaps.
“Queen Penelope.”
I hated the way he said her name, dragging it out like a lover’s caress, so intimate and entitled.
“It is my deepest pleasure to finally meet you.”
He bowed low, his chestnut curls bouncing with the motion. Beside me, I could tell Penelope was as unimpressed by the stranger as I was, yet she feigned polite interest.
“Allow me to introduce myself,” the man continued, his words oily, slipping together too easily. “My name is Eurymachus, son of Polybus. I hail from nearby Same. I have been hoping to meet with you for some time, my queen.”
“And to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”
“I wish to put myself forward as a candidate.”
Penelope’s eyes cut up and down him, quietly assessing. “A candidate?”
The man’s smile widened. “To claim your hand, of course. To take you as my wife.”
“My mistress is already a wife,” I snapped.
The man, Eurymachus, shifted his attention to me.
“What a sharp tongue you have,” he said, gaze dipping over my body appreciatively.
“Melantho speaks true,” Penelope said evenly. “I am already married, Eurymachus. All of Greece knows this.”
Eurymachus glanced toward the throne, its emptiness suddenly seeming magnified, swallowing up the whole room.
“From what I hear, you are a widow,” he said.
“Careful how you speak to my queen.”
“Melantho.” Penelope’s eyes met mine, and I read the unspoken words gleaming there: He is not worth it.
“I did not mean to offend.” Eurymachus inclined his head. “I have merely heard word that Odysseus is dead. Is this not the case?”
“No body has been found. Thus, it is believed my husband is alive.”
“I see.” He tapped his chin theatrically. “Then why, may I ask, has it taken the king of Ithaca seven summers to return to his kingdom?”
“The Fates have seen fit to delay my husband. That is what happens when you are beloved by the gods. As you know, they like to test their favorites.”
“I’ll admit, your faith in your husband is…endearing,” Eurymachus said, voice dripping with condescension. “Though I am somewhat surprised. I was told you were a woman of pragmatism.”
Penelope did not rise to the bait. Instead, she smiled with a smooth, hollow politeness. “I am sorry to disappoint you, but it appears your journey here was wasted. Of course, I will offer you food and lodging for as long as you require before your journey back to Same.”
Eurymachus bowed his head again. “Thank you. That is most gracious.”
“I will send for someone to escort you to our guest wing,” Penelope said. “I hope you will make yourself at home.”
His eyes glinted. “Oh, I certainly plan to.”
***
Eurymachus’s presence was like a bad stench. I could smell it everywhere I went, the reek setting me on edge.
I watched him strolling around the palace, barking commands at the other slaves. Begrudgingly, we obeyed, praying our deference would hasten his departure.
Penelope had girls shadow him constantly, reporting on his every action. She also had Thratta tail Telemachus, much to the prince’s distaste.
“I am not a child, Mother. I can fend for myself,” he complained.
“It is just until Eurymachus leaves,” Penelope assured him.
But Eurymachus did not leave.
He lingered, day after day, stretching Penelope’s hospitality thin as he enjoyed her food and wine and even dared to push his luck with some of the slaves.
A few entertained his attentions, though I knew this compliance did not stem from their own desire, rather an ingrained belief that they had to serve his. It made my blood boil.
“I want him gone,” I said.
“He will grow bored soon enough,” Penelope assured me. “Once he realizes the uselessness of his endeavor.”
The second suitor arrived shortly after.
His name was Antinous, son of Eupeithes, a nobleman of Ithaca. He was comically young, only a little older than Telemachus. Yet despite his youthful appearance, there was something hollow and ancient about his eyes, as if he had lived many lives before and lost all love for this world.
“I already have a husband,” Penelope told him, just as she had with Eurymachus.
“Tell me, my queen, can a corpse be a husband?” Antinous replied as he picked his teeth.
I could tell Penelope was unsettled by his words, but she replied smoothly, “King Odysseus is not dead.”
Antinous tilted his head to the side when she said that, his dark, lank hair spilling over his narrow face. He was an ugly, hawkish man.
“He has abandoned you then?” he mused. “I had heard those rumors too. I suppose a goddess’s cunt is as good a reason as any to abandon a throne.”
Penelope stiffened, stunned by his vulgarity.
“May I be shown to my rooms now?” Antinous asked when he grew bored of her silence. “I hear your hospitality is most excellent.”
***
That night, I lurked in the banquet hall, watching as Antinous and Eurymachus stuffed their faces and slurped their wine. It had been so long since the palace had been stained by the presence of noblemen. I had forgotten how suffocating their company could be.
“One could get used to a life like this,” Antinous said as he beckoned for a slave to refill his wine.
Eurymachus smacked his greasy lips as he helped himself to another plate of meat. “One certainly could.”
They shared a look, and a heavy realization crept over me.
This was only the beginning.