Penelope
"I said I wanted to see the man that brings word of my husband, have Telemachus send him up," I say, to one of the servants. I've been pacing all evening. I couldn't eat anything. I'm done with waiting. I am so done with waiting.
Eulises
"Come, her sitting room is this way."
"I know that," I mutter.
"Right, sorry, whatever it's this way," Telemachus says, leading me.
"No, you were right, I apologize I'm thinking too much," I say, clasping my hands behind my back to stop their trembling.
"Hey, you, I'm taking this man to see my mother, see that they are waited upon," Telemachus says, to one of the servants, I don't know them. "I'll be waiting outside."
"I would sir, but last week you said none of us were to walk in front of youâ,"
"Well, that was last week and now I'm telling you this," Telemachus says, tugging me on, he pauses outside the door, "Go on, she's in there."
"Right," I squeeze his arm quickly. He smiles his soft, kind smile like his mother's, nothing like mine.
I step in. the room is warm, and much like I remembered, her sitting room where she would entertain our few guests, mostly just myself. On the wall hangs a tapestry, a new one. Of an olive tree. My breath catches in my throat. An olive tree, a light house, a peer, and deep cool blue ocean.
"Go on, what do you think you're doing in here?" a servant girl catches sight of me, in the rags that I am, "Get out."
"Why do you have no care? I was invited here, and just because I look like nobody doesn't mean I deserve no respect. I may deserve what the gods have dealt but so shall you," I snap at her.
Penelope
"Leave him alone, I told you I had a guest coming, he is not like the other men," I say, stepping in from the other chamber where I was listening to catch his voice.
"Sorry, ma'am," the girl ducks away, quickly.
"Mother, this is the man I told you of," Telemachus says, nervously.
"Hello," I say, smiling at him, looking for his dark eyes past the shadows of the firelight. "I'm Eulises' wife."
Eulises
....
Penelope
"He knew father during the warâand he might be mute," Telemachus twitches at the door.
"We'll be well," I say to him, "You can wait outside." He obeys, ducking his head and then closing the door and I'm sure leaning against it.
"Where do you come from, stranger? Where is your homeland?" I ask, kindly.
The man puts a hand to his face, almost looking away from me, clearing his throat a bit, before he speaks, then training his sharp eyes back on me, "Dear woman, no man on earth speaks against you, your glory reaches to the wide sky, and you are virtuous and godlike in your ruling of this land. This is your house, and you have every right to question me, but I pray do not ask about my family. Please."
"Well," I say, cautiously, "You are a flatterer, for the gods took my beauty when my husband went away. He sailed years ago, my sweet Eulises, and I have not seen him since, and I care for myself very little in his absence as he was the only one I ever wished to please."
Eulises
"No you are, entirely, as the poets sing my lady," I say, keeping somehow the tremble from my voice as I look at her again. I'm weaker than when I first beheld her. brown eyes glowing in the firelight, small smile on her sweet thin lips.
"You mistake sir, poets do not sing of me," she says.
"They sing of Aphrodite, which is an apt enough allusion, lady."
Telemachus
"Why is he flirting with her?" Athena is slumped next to me at the door, her face in her hands.
"I don't know," I whisper.
Penelope
"So tell me then, where are you from? You didn't just appear on my doorstep. You have some story I wish to hear it," I always want to hear your stories. Even when I know they are not true.
Eulises
All right, I must tell her something of course she's too clever for this.
"My name is Aethon, I was the second born son, of the a merchant who lived by a port not far from where the soldier's docked. It is there I met your husband, before the war," I lie, smoothly, "Their ships could not sail, and sought refuge with us for some time."
Penelope
He says it so like it is true I could weep but that is the trick of him. All that he says is so like the truth you cannot tell it.
"Then prove to me you knew my husband," I say.
"How shall I do that?" he asks.
Bet you can't. "Describe my husband to me. What did he look like?"
"It's been so long---you must forgive my memory, worshipful lady, I cannot fully recall all those years but----he wore a purple cloak, when I saw him. Of double folded wool. And his shirt was white and crisp, soft like an onion peel. He had black hair, and blacker eyes, he was quite handsome, and knew it, I would suspect, he was handsomer than any of the other men with high cheek bones and deep olive skin. He wore a double pinned, gold broach that was in the shape of a needle I think, though I could not make it out and could be wrong, this was so many years ago," I say, apologetically as I can, struggling through the weight in my chest at recalling those soft clothes that she herself packed into my bags. That was not my uniform, I changed out of that when we went ashore so it's true enough.
Penelope
If I didn't love him so much I would kill him. I do let tears slip down my face.
"You are a guest, and honored friend. As you clearly knew my husband, I packed those clothes for him so he'd have something besides those uniforms. Cursed am I that I shall never see him again to welcome him home," I put a hand to my face to stop the tears.
Eulises
"NoâI would not say that. Do not cry, sweet---sweetest and kindest of women, you'll spoil your perfect skin with those tears," I say tightening my fingers on my own palm to stop from gathering her in my arms. "I don't blame you for your grief, any woman who had children with a man would mourn him even if he was not as godlike and heroic as your husband clearly was."
"Yes, he was," she says, staring directly at me then.
"Look, I'll tell you what I have heard. I was told that your husband is alive, that he's coming home. His crew was swept out to sea, his ship destroyed, all because his brave men took scared cattle. They drown, but he did not, instead he washed ashore, and as no one is greater at hustling or tricks, he amounted treasure from the people who found him, and he soon will return home, he journeys this way," I say, quickly.
Penelope
I blink back tears, "And why---and how soon do you expect he might arrive? If what you say is true."
"I would expect within, the month yes, I would suppose before the next new moon," he says, almost tripping over his own words.
Eulises
"Well that is a shame. For I believe he's dead," she says, her voice growing cold then, "He's dead and shall not return. Which is truly a pity. For there is no man like him all the world."
"Truly there is not," I say, softly.
"Servant---here this servant will show you to a chamber where you can clean yourself. You are an honored guest even if we have no home now, with my husband gone and dead."
"I care not for my appearance, nor have I since I sailed," I say.
"We won't have you treated ill, come," she beckons Cleia to her. the woman's eyes pass over me, however. She knows me no more than my wife does.
"Come," she draws me aside into the next room, where fresh clothes lay.
"I am well as I am," I say, accepting though a cloth for my gritty face.
"Let me change your sandals at least, sir," she kneels at my feet, one hand running down my calf.
She nearly cries out, but quicker than I knew I could still move, I have her by the throat and against the wall, startled even at my own violence.
"Precious boy," she says, openly weeping.
"You'll tell no one, or I will kill you along with the others, my wetnurse or no," I growl, hand still on her throat.
"I would not betray you. I prayed every day for the gods to bring you back to us," she says, wrinkled hands going to my face.
"See that you do not, those men seek to kill me, I shall have the best of them as I always do, however, not just yet. And breath not a word to my wife I do not yet know her mind," I say, slowly letting her go. She hugs my chest, weathered face in it. I realize how stiffly I stand and pat her back, though I get no relief from her touch as I did with my son and father. Is this how it is to be with women, then? That all I remember is my abuser? Not these soft hands that clothed and fed me when I was but an infant?
"I must return," I say, touching her back once more before going back to my wife. She sits, staring into the fire, heedless of our conversation.
"Stranger, I have one more question, if I may," Penelope says, heart-shaped face tipped now towards me, round doe eyes fixed on my face as though she could discern it.
"I'll answer you anything," I say, taking my seat again.
"My heart is troubled, as I grow old, and my son is now grown himself and is old enough to care for the estate, he urges me to marry. But I do not know. I cannot sleep well, not since my husband left. And I am assailed by dreams, perhaps you could help me interpret this one? I dreamt twenty geese everyday came to the garden and ate. And one day a sharp eyed eagle swooped down, and slaughtered them with his terrible pointed beak. And I wept, for the geese. But the eagle told me not to fear. For he was my husband, returning home. Now, what do you make of that?" she asks.
"It definitely, absolutely, means your husband will be home soon, of that I am certain," I say, quickly.
"I don't know though. I'm quite torn. I should probably give in to my sons leanings and marry whichever suitor can offer the highest price for my hand. I would be sad to leave this home that I love but alas my husband is dead and it's my son's birthright," she says.
"No---I mean---yes but I've just told you I'm quite. I'm very certain---your husband is alive. And he does return to you. Why would he not? You're everything, a man, any man could ever want, goddesses themselves could not compare, to your beauty or wit," I am unable to look at her, curling my hands to stop their shaking.
"I'm afraid, I just cannot have your certainty. I shall have to choose someone to marry then," she shrugs, helpless.
"Not necessarily no you don't," I argue, heat rising in my chest, "Your husband will return."
"He won't since he's clearly dead, even if he is the best of men----I know what I shall do. I'll propose a contest. With my husband's finest bow. He had a bow, a planitonos bow, which was nearly impossible for any but he to string, yet his aim was so sharp with it, he could shoot through axe heads, all set in a line. The bow itself has been in arms room, safe, while he was away. Whichever man can string the bow, and shoot it through twelve axe heads, will earn my hand. For I must have a man who is exactly like my Eulises," she says, leaning forward a bit.
"That is an excellent plan, yes, do that, tomorrow, I'm sure your husband who is a mastermind could orchestrate to return," I say, quickly, "None of those pups out there could ever handle a weaponâlike the one you describeâthe likes of which I have not seen. Ever."
"Well, then, I shall arrange it tomorrow. And while I could speak with you all night sadly, I grow weary. I weep every night for my husband, alone in our marriage bed, and I must now devote myself to his memory," she says, rising.
"It's been a pleasure to speak with you, let alone look upon you," I say, bowing. Then I back out the door, hitting our son with it.
"Well?" he hisses, stumbling to his feet.
"She didn't know it's me," I say, quietly, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.
Penelope
"Well?" Cleia asks, the moment I step into the room.
"It's him," I say, sighing. And then I do let myself weep for him again.