Glyn Iliffe - King of Ithaca (Adventures of Odysseus)

‘Yes, I do,’ Icarius confirmed with a nervous nod. ‘He asked me after the assembly this morning. He’s besotted with her, in a way I’ve never noticed anyone to be interested in Penelope before.’

‘Perhaps you should pay more attention to what goes on around your daughter, then. But I wish it had been anyone other than that Locrian hothead. There’ll be trouble if he gets refused for Odysseus’s sake. They hardly see eye to eye as it is.’

‘That’s good,’ Icarius said. ‘For all of Little Ajax’s anger, I’d much rather have Penelope married to a real prince than a scheming mendicant like Odysseus.’

Tyndareus was in a dilemma. He wanted to honour his promise to Odysseus, who had helped ensure there would be no disagreement when Helen’s husband was chosen. Equally he did not want Little Ajax’s temper to threaten the hard-won peace that still existed within the palace walls. Especially not over a minor princess such as Penelope. Then an idea came to him.

‘Perhaps you’ll let them decide the matter between themselves.’

‘There’s nothing to decide, is there?’ Icarius replied. ‘I intend to allow Little Ajax to marry Penelope. Odysseus can go to Hades for all I care.’

‘I don’t think you should make any rash judgements, brother, especially as I’ve given Odysseus my word that I’ll get a reasonable answer from you. Why don’t we let them compete for her? A javelin-throwing contest, perhaps. Better still – a boxing match. A woman loves nothing more than to see two men spill each other’s blood for her sake.’

Icarius knew better than to cross his older brother once he had made up his mind about something, but long years of being the inferior sibling had taught him how to manoeuvre around Tyndareus.

‘I can see you’re determined about this. Well, as Penelope’s my daughter, perhaps you’ll condescend to allow me to choose the nature of the competition?’

Tyndareus had already decided to offer Little Ajax a substantial bribe to under-perform in whatever sport was chosen, so happily nodded his agreement. As an ally he believed Odysseus would prove to be worth the expense.

‘Then I suggest a foot race,’ Icarius said, hardly able to suppress a smile. ‘Three days from today. I’ll agree to give Penelope to whoever wins.’

Odysseus groaned. ‘A foot race?’

‘Are you concerned?’ Tyndareus asked. They walked alone through the corridors of the palace on their way to the night’s feast. ‘I’ve watched you during the morning exercises and you look fit and strong. What are you afraid of?’

‘Little Ajax is the fastest runner in all of Greece, my lord. He may not look quick, but I’ve heard he can outrun any man alive and could even match Olympian Hermes in his winged sandals. Icarius has fooled you, I think.’

Tyndareus scoffed at the notion. ‘Maybe. But perhaps I’m not as stupid as my brother thinks: I’ve offered your rival a bribe to run slower than you – without making it look too obvious of course – and he has accepted. So much for love, eh?’

Odysseus was not convinced, though he did not say as much to the king. They reached the tall wooden doors of the great hall and walked up to the dais, where the other kings and princes awaited them. Little Ajax was there and nodded to them both in a surprisingly civil manner, which naturally made Odysseus suspicious. They took their usual seats and began the business of eating the food the servants brought to them and dousing their beards with the wine they poured into their cups. But after a while Odysseus rose from his seat and asked to be excused. To the surprise of the other high nobility he walked over to his own men, who were in their usual corner of the great hall next to the men of Rhodes.

As he looked about at their familiar, comforting faces and shared their jokes and laughter, his thoughts were firmly fixed upon the race. Though Odysseus was also a fast runner, he knew that if he was to rely upon his legs alone he would never win Penelope for his wife. Tyndareus’s bribe might prove enough to persuade the Locrian to lose, but Odysseus remained unpersuaded. Little Ajax hated to lose in anything to anybody; he competed not so much for the glory as for the delight of seeing others defeated. Odysseus knew he could not afford to take even the slightest risk.

‘Where are Halitherses and Damastor?’ he asked, suddenly noticing their absence.

‘Damastor has skulked off with that slave girl again,’ Antiphus answered.

‘And Halitherses?’

‘Ill. He ate some bad food and now he’s too sick to do anything but lie on his mattress and hold his stomach.’

Odysseus’s eyes gleamed and he sat up straight. ‘Antiphus, you’re an inspiration,’ he said. ‘Now give me some of that wine and let’s drink to the old man’s recovery. And our homes.’

They lifted their cups and murmured their approval – especially, Odysseus was pleased to note, at the notion of Ithaca. He drank and the troubles of the day became suddenly more bearable, thanks to the idea that had struck him. Then he saw Penelope enter the great hall, tall and elegant like a flower set amongst dull weeds. The heads of the guests and slaves observed her in silence, broken only by the occasional whisper that followed in her wake. He saw her glance at the royal dais and noticed with pleasure the disappointment on her face: he knew she had come in the hope of seeing him, and that her heart sank to observe him missing from his usual place.

He could not bear to be apart from her now that she was here. Before, when she had visited the nightly feasts, she had forced him to keep his distance. Believing that she hated him, he had reluctantly left her to her arrogant isolation. Now, though, he found the temptation of being with her irresistible. The thought that she would greet him with a similar strength of longing was a pleasure he could not wait to taste. He rose from his seat and she turned instinctively towards him. There was a fire in her eyes that burned only for him, oblivious to the watching crowd who knew of her shame. Her nostrils fanned open briefly as she saw him, and then without even the glimmer of an acknowledgement she turned and left the hall.

Odysseus snatched a glance at the royal dais. Icarius sat next to the empty chair that Little Ajax had occupied only moments before, watching his daughter as she retreated from the great hall. But Odysseus had no concern for the king or any of the other nobles who looked at Penelope with accusing eyes. That they suspected her of inviting men to her room, as palace rumour now suggested, did not concern him; that Little Ajax must be moving through the crowd in pursuit of her did.

He slipped out of the great hall, unnoticed by the throng of people who were already discussing the departed princess. Outside in the moonlit inner courtyard priests were sacrificing oxen to the ever-watchful gods. They burned thighbones wrapped in glistening fat, the twisting smoke from the fires mingling with their verbose and wailing prayers, while their attendants cut up the animals’ flesh to supply the feast.

Odysseus saw his rival amongst them and ducked quickly out of sight behind one of the pillars that supported the roof of the gallery that circumvented the inner courtyard. From here he watched the attendants shake their heads and shrug their shoulders in response to Little Ajax’s urgent enquiries about Penelope. Then Odysseus heard his name whispered behind him and turned to see the princess, hiding behind another of the pillars. She beckoned to him as she disappeared through a side-door back into the palace.

Odysseus followed her into a corridor that, he guessed by the smell of food, led to the kitchens. She turned and in an instant they were in each other’s arms, kissing and abandoning themselves to their need for each other. The brief but intense flirtation of the night before had left them unfulfilled and tense with frustrated desire, and only the appearance of a slave returning to the kitchens tempered their passion. Penelope grabbed Odysseus by the hand and led him by a complex route through the darkened corridors and eventually to a room stacked with dust-covered clay tablets.