King of Ithaca (Adventures of Odysseus)

The suitors resumed their places without removing their eyes from the princess. Only Agamemnon remained standing, sending furtive glances across the room at Penelope. Helen took his seat and faced Odysseus, her cloak falling open to reveal the gossamerthin dress beneath. It was a wonder that human hands could make material so fine, yet Helen was more than worthy of its craftsmanship. It was like a thin mist that gave tantalizing glimpses of the naked form beneath. But at the same time she fixed him with her eyes, offering him the agonizing choice between her face and her body. He chose neither, and instead beckoned a slave to refill his drinking cup.

‘Where do you come from, Odysseus? Are you powerful and rich like Diomedes?’ At the mention of his name – Helen’s first recognition of him – Diomedes sat up. His noble nature did not begrudge Odysseus the princess’s attention, though he envied him for it. ‘Or are you one of the lesser royals, hoping to increase your country’s might by marrying the daughter of the Spartan king?’

‘Co-king,’ Odysseus reminded her, sensing every eye was upon them. ‘In answer to your first question, I’m from Ithaca; in answer to your second and third, I am very much a lesser royal. As for seeking a marriage of power, I doubt that a man of my standing would get very far with the great Helen of Sparta.’

As he spoke, Helen touched her foot against the thick calf muscles of his leg, rubbing her toes briefly and seductively against his skin. The cloak opened further to reveal more of her perfect body, and Odysseus recognized that her provocative manner was practised and compelling. But he sensed this was a façade, not the real Helen.

‘Then why would a man travel all the way from an island in the Ionian Sea to pay court to a princess in Sparta, whom he had never seen before and had no hope of marrying?’

Surprised that she knew of Ithaca, Odysseus was even more intrigued by her shrewd insinuation that he had not come to Sparta for her. He was suddenly aware that, though young, Helen had an intelligence to match her outstanding looks, and that he must be careful around her. More importantly, he had to be mindful not to fall for the charms of a girl whom Zeus had already decreed should marry another. Whatever her reasons for flirting with him, whether they were born of genuine attraction or of more deceitful motives, he could not allow her to distract him from his mission.

‘My country is humble and distanced from the central powers of Greece,’ he replied. ‘Our life is simple and carefree. But in a land of ease a man must go beyond his home borders to experience the world. When I heard the most beautiful woman in Greece was to be married, I thought I should like to see her for myself. That she could show any interest in an island prince was beyond my expectations, and still is, but it does no harm to worship an earthly divinity.’

‘Your rough looks belie a fine character,’ Helen remarked. ‘I think I should be happy on Ithaca, if it produces such a breed of well-spoken men.’

Odysseus was about to say she would be welcome there, and that her presence would turn every Ithacan into a bard, but as he opened his mouth to speak Clytaemnestra joined them.

‘Always dreaming of running away, sister. Isn’t it a shame you’re a woman, and your destiny is ever in the hands of others.’ She looked about at the seated nobles. ‘Where’s my husband?’

‘Where do you think?’ Helen answered. ‘Snooping after Penelope, as usual.’

Eperitus looked up at Penelope as she stood before the seated soldiers with her hands on her hips and a smile upon her face.

‘Welcome to Sparta, men of Ithaca,’ she greeted them. ‘I am Penelope, daughter of King Icarius. I hope your needs are met, but if not I’ll do what I can to help you feel more at ease in our home.’

‘You can tell us whether Odysseus will win Helen’s hand in marriage,’ Damastor asked, to the cheers and laughter of the others. Gyrtias and his Rhodians jeered mockingly and received a hail of bread and barley cakes in response.

‘Is he the red-haired one with short legs and arms like tree trunks?’ Penelope replied. ‘Then I hope his clumsy charms are more effective on my cousin than they were on me.’

There was another roar of laughter. Warming to the young woman in their drunkenness, the warriors offered her wine and a seat, which she accepted.

‘And what about you, my lady?’ Eperitus asked. ‘Are you married?’

She looked at him and grinned. ‘Are you suggesting I should be?’

‘I am,’ he said, encouraged by the wine.

‘Yes,’ Antiphus added with a laugh. ‘To him!’

‘Are these men bothering you, Penelope?’

‘No, Lord Agamemnon,’ she answered stiffly, as the Mycenaean king appeared beside her.