Chapter 47
Bodies churned in a sea of drunken flesh.
It was chaos. Chaos wrapped in the stench of wine and sweat and meat.
I walked silently beside Penelope, wondering if there were any sight more vile than a room full of intoxicated, entitled men.
Once the suitors noticed Penelope’s presence, they began to cheer, ogling her with hazy eyes. They did not look at her as a queen but as a prize, a vessel for their own glory. I fought the urge to bare my teeth at them.
Only Hippodamia, Autonoe, and I accompanied Penelope into the banquet hall. We had agreed that the fewer women the suitors fixed their sights on, the better. And Thratta and Actoris couldn’t be trusted not to start a fight.
“Our queen!” Unsurprisingly, it was Eurymachus who spoke first. “You honor us with your presence!”
He raised his cup, his handsome face shining with that infuriatingly fake smile of his. Beside him, as always, sat Antinous, his loyal dog. Antinous’s soulless eyes seemed even emptier than usual, like two black pits carved into his ugly face.
“Thank you, Eurymachus.” Penelope refused to raise her voice, forcing the men to fall quiet so they could hear their prize speak. “I wished to ensure you were all comfortable and being suitably cared for.”
There was a roar of approval, wine sloshing as cups clattered together.
“Your hospitality has been exceptional,” Eurymachus said. “But I must tell you, my queen, we are all very keen to know when you plan on selecting a husband.”
“I already have a husband, as you well know, Eurymachus,” Penelope replied, her voice a veneer of calm, “and I will not consider another until I have confirmation of his death.”
“Is it not common knowledge that Odysseus died some time ago?” Eurymachus pressed, then bowed his head. “May Hades keep his soul.”
“It’s time the queen stopped hiding behind Odysseus’s rotting corpse,” Antinous said around a mouthful of fish. He smacked his greasy lips, pushing his long, limp hair off his face. “Ithaca needs a king.”
Fists slammed down on tables in thunderous agreement, and I fought the overwhelming urge to lunge forward and slit Antinous’s throat with one of the meat knives.
“Come now, Antinous. Let us not speak of corpses in the lady’s presence,” Eurymachus chided. “Queen Penelope, you were telling us the purpose of your visit. Do continue.”
“I have brought you all a gift.” Penelope motioned to the man who had entered behind us. “This is Phemius. He is a much-celebrated bard here in Ithaca. I have instructed him to entertain you with his excellent tales.”
The men cheered, and a smile lifted Phemius’s plump face, his eyes gleaming with the challenge of such a raucous audience.
“Thank you, Queen Penelope.” Phemius bowed, then reaffirmed his grip on his lyre.
“I will leave you in Phemius’s capable hands,” Penelope announced before turning sharply on her heel and striding toward the door.
I followed her, with Hippodamia and Autonoe close behind. Penelope walked with steady, assured steps, but I could tell from the tension laced into her spine that she was fighting the urge to flee this den of wolves.
In the hallway, Penelope let out a small sigh.
“They have fewer manners than the hounds,” Hippodamia whispered.
“That Antinous is a nasty one,” Autonoe echoed.
From within the banquet hall, we heard Phemius’s voice warbling over the din. He was singing of Odysseus, as Penelope had instructed him to, of his might and bravery, how his sharp mind could be bested by no man.
“I do not think a few songs will appease those men,” I muttered.
“No,” Penelope agreed. “But there is still value in keeping the legend of Odysseus alive.”
Phemius began singing of Penelope then, of her exemplary loyalty and devotion to her true love, Odysseus.
My eyes met hers, and a chord of tension rippled between us, like the jarring twang of an untuned string.
I wondered if she felt guilty when she heard her fidelity praised so lavishly.
The impeccable queen of Ithaca, the perfect wife.
If Greece only knew the truth, how different those songs would be.
I hated to think of it—how my love would demonize her, staining Penelope forevermore.
“Come,” she said, as if sensing the dark turn of my thoughts. “It is not safe for us to linger here.”
As we turned to leave, I spied a tall figure slinking toward the banquet hall.
“Melanthius,” I breathed, watching my brother peer through the arched entryway. “What’s he doing here?”
“I do not know,” Penelope said from beside me.
“I have to warn him.”
Concern bloomed across her face. “It is not safe—”
“Which is exactly why I must warn him,” I shot back.
“I’ll go with her,” Hippodamia interjected. “You two go on. We’ll be safe together.”
Penelope’s eyes found mine, and I could sense her heavy reluctance as she whispered, “Be careful. Please.”
I nodded before breaking into a jog back to where my brother lurked in the shadows. He flinched as I touched his shoulder.
“What are you doing?”
Melanthius regarded me, then Hippodamia at my side. “Eurymachus invited me.”
“He what?”
“He said I should join their feast tonight.”
“You cannot go in there.”
He puffed his chest out a little. “Why not?”
“Because they’re drunk, and they’re fools.”
“You think I’m not good enough to sit with them?”
“Melanthius.” His name was a frustrated growl in my throat.
“I see how it is.” His voice hardened, and I saw a bitterness lurking behind his eyes, cold and rotten and horribly familiar. “You can dine alongside Queen Penelope, but I’m not good enough to drink with some noblemen?”
“That’s not what I said.” Something in his face gave me pause—the looseness of his gaze, the sneer on his lips. “Have you been drinking again?”
Instead of replying, my brother stormed into the banquet hall, head held high. I saw Eurymachus’s eyes narrow on Melanthius instantly, his smile curling dangerously wide as he leaned to murmur something in Antinous’s ear.
“We must go.” Hippodamia tugged my arm, but I shrugged her off.
“I’m not leaving him. Not with them.”
“We cannot go back in there—”
“Return to Penelope’s quarters,” I told her. “Don’t wait for me.”
Before she could object, I strode into the hall and grabbed Melanthius. He turned sharply, an ugly, embarrassed fury carving across his face.
“Let go,” he snarled.
“Melanthius!” Eurymachus called, his voice cutting over the bard’s lilting music. “You came!”
Melanthius threw me a warning glare before ripping his arm free from my grasp.
“I wouldn’t turn down such an invite, sir,” he said as he walked toward the long tables laden with food and wine.
Eurymachus’s eyes slid to mine. “And you brought us a gift? How generous of you.”
I could only see my brother’s back, but I noted the way his shoulders stiffened.
“Melantho was just leaving,” he said quickly.
“Leaving?” Eurymachus repeated.
Beside him, Antinous’s grin widened.
“But she’ll miss all the fun! Come on, darling. Come here.”
“She has to return to Mistress Penelope,” Melanthius insisted.
“Do not make me ask twice.” Eurymachus’s voice was jovial, yet I could sense the threat edging each word.
I walked forward, brushing past Melanthius as I approached Eurymachus. The suitor’s pale hazel eyes slipped over me.
“You are a stunning sight, aren’t you?” he mused, inviting jeers from the men around him. “A little old but still beautiful. And those eyes.” He gave a laugh. “You look like you want to slit my throat. It’s incredibly alluring.”
I lowered my gaze to the knife on the table, arching a brow in silent challenge.
Eurymachus laughed again. Beside me, Melanthius watched our interaction beneath a tight scowl.
“My brother is required by my queen,” I said evenly. “He and I must depart immediately.”
“The queen requires him?” Eurymachus tapped his chin slowly. “How strange. What use could a lonely queen have for a goatherd at this hour? Hmm. Questions like that could spread some nasty rumors, you know. Are you sure Queen Penelope has summoned him?”
Panic flared inside me as I recognized the trap I had so foolishly fallen into.
“You are right,” I said hastily, hating that this swine had outmaneuvered me so easily. “I am mistaken.”
Eurymachus smirked. “I thought so. But not to worry, for we have a use for your brother.”
Melanthius smiled, moving to take the empty place beside him.
“What do you think you are doing?” Eurymachus barked.
Melanthius halted. “You said I could join you.”
“You think you can just take a seat beside me, slave?” Eurymachus sneered, inviting more laughter from the table.
I watched my brother’s cheeks redden.
“You need to earn your place, goatherd.”
“How?”
“The same way any young man must prove himself in this world.”
Melanthius glanced between the suitors questioningly, and I felt my heart thump sickeningly in my ears.
It was Antinous who spoke, his smile cut from the bleakest night.
“You must fight, boy.”