King of Ithaca (Adventures of Odysseus)

The guard did not seem frightened by the threat, but knew the duties laid upon him. ‘All right then, we’ll have a look. And you’d better return to the feast.’

Damastor headed back to the great hall, smiling to himself. The moment he realized Odysseus was intending to climb up to Penelope’s room, he had remembered that the punishment for entering the women’s quarters was death and seized his opportunity. At last, it seemed, the gods were on his side.

Behind him, the guard officer turned and called back along the corridor. Two men emerged with spears in their hands and came running towards him. One of them was directed to fetch King Icarius, whilst the other accompanied the officer up the steps that led to the next floor. They rushed along the torch-lit corridor that linked the many rooms of the women’s quarters, shouting the princess’s name as they ran. Turning a corner they were suddenly at the door to her room, where they paused momentarily to listen for any suspicious sound beyond the thick wood. Then they heard voices, hushed and urgent. The door burst open with one kick and they ran into the darkened room.

Penelope fell back onto the bed, clutching a blanket to herself. By the window, where the thin light of the moon infiltrated the shadows, they saw a naked man. He took one look at them, then plucked up his clothes from the floor and dashed to the window. They were after him in a heartbeat, but to their shock he leapt out into the night air, heedless of the drop two floors to the ground.

‘Help me!’ Penelope called behind them.

Turning they saw her kneeling naked on the bed, the blanket in a pile at her knees. For a moment all thoughts of the intruder were forgotten.

‘He attacked me,’ she pleaded. Having stolen their attention away from the escape of her lover, she pulled the cover back over herself again. ‘He was here when I returned from the feast.’

‘Did he . . . touch you?’ asked the officer.

‘Do you know him, my lady?’ added the other guard in the face of her silence.

‘No. It was dark and . . . and he covered my face with this blanket so that I couldn’t see him.’

There would be trouble from this, the soldiers knew, but for now they had to see that Penelope was safe. The officer went to the window and looked down. Nothing. Then he looked at the tree and an explanation dawned on him.

Suddenly there were more voices in the corridor outside and a moment later Icarius burst in with three guards at his heels. He took one look at his daughter and with a sinking heart knew that what he had been told was true. Seizing a torch from one of the soldiers, he held it before her as she hid her nudity behind the flimsy covering.

‘Who?’ he demanded.

When she did not answer the officer repeated what she had told him. ‘Shall I send the men out and call for a slave, my lord?’

‘No! Let her squirm in her own infamy. Did you see the man?’

‘We saw him, but it was dark and before we could do anything he leapt out of the window and escaped.’

‘What do you mean, you idiot? How could anyone jump out of the window and run off? He’d break his legs, if he didn’t break his neck first.’

‘He must have got in by climbing up the tree, father,’ Penelope offered, still kneeling on the bed. The lascivious urgings had faded and she tried harder to conceal her nudity behind the blanket.

Icarius ignored her and went to the window. After thrusting his head out and assessing the means of entry and exit he turned back to the knot of guards in the centre of the room. They were trying desperately not to look at the naked princess or her incensed father.

‘Have you looked to see if he left anything behind? A sandal or a piece of clothing? Anything?’

They shook their heads, but as they did so Icarius suddenly shot out an arm and pointed at the floor.

‘There!’ he exclaimed, and leaned down to pick something small and delicate from the bare slabs at the feet of his soldiers. He held it up like a prize, turning its delicate form before their eyes. It was a dried sprig of chelonion, the badge of the men from Ithaca.

The feast was stopped immediately and every man – noble or commoner – ordered back to their quarters. Eperitus and Peisandros had already quit the festivities for the night, preferring instead to walk through the gardens and swap stories of the battles they had been through. Eperitus was recounting the fight with the serpent when armed guards approached and escorted them back to their rooms. He found Odysseus already there, looking breathless and dishevelled with scratches on his arms and legs. As the prince offered no explanation for his condition, or his absence from the feast, Eperitus knew better than to interrogate him about it.